SOLDIERS'   STORIES 
OF   THE   WAR 


SOLDIERS'  STORIES 
OF  THE  WAR 


EDITED    BY 

WALTER    WOOD 

AUTHOR  OF 
MEN  OF  THE  NORTH  SEA,"  "SURVIVORS*  TALES  OF  GREAT  EVENTS,' 

"NORTH  SEA  FISHERS  AND  FIGHTERS,"  ETC. 


WITH    TWENTY    FULL-PAGE    ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY  A.    C.   MICHAEL 


LONDON 

CHAPMAN   AND   HALL,  LTD. 
1915 


PRINTED   IN    GREAT    BRITAIN    BY 
RICHARD  CLAY  &  SONS,   LIMITED, 

BRUNSWICK  ST.,  STAMFORD  ST.,  S.E., 
AND  BUN  GAY,   SUFFOLK. 


INTRODUCTION 

ALL  the  stories  in  this  volume  are  told  by  men  who 
were  seen  personally,  and  who,  with  one  or  two  ex- 
ceptions— cases  of  soldiers  who  had  returned  to  the 
front — read  the  typescripts  of  their  narratives,  so  that 
accuracy  should  be  secured.  The  narrators  spoke 
while  the  impressions  of  fighting  and  hardships  and 
things  seen  were  still  strong  and  clear ;  in  several  cases 
full  notes  had  been  made  or  diaries  kept,  and  refer- 
ence to  these  records  was  of  great  value  in  preparing 
the  stories.  When  seeing  an  informant  I  specially 
asked  that  a  true  tale  should  be  told,  and  I  believe 
that  no  unreliable  details  were  knowingly  given. 

I  have  been  fortunate  in  getting  a  good  deal  of  ex- 
clusive matter — the  full  record  of  the  noble  achieve- 
ment of  L  Battery,  Royal  Horse  Artillery,  for 
example,  has  not  been  given  anywhere  in  such  detail 
as  is  presented  here,  and  the  same  remark  applies  to 
the  story  of  the  three  torpedoed  cruisers. 

During  the  earlier  periods  of  the  war  British  soldiers 
told  me  tales  of  barbarities  and  outrages  committed 
by  German  troops  which  were  so  terrible  that  it  was 
impossible  to  believe  them,  and  I  omitted  many  of 
these  details  from  the  finished  stories ;  but  I  know 
now,  from  reading  the  Report  of  the  Committee  on 
Alleged  German  Outrages,  presided  over  by  Viscount 
Bryce,  formerly  British  Ambassador  at  Washington, 


340830 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

that  even  the  most  dreadful  of  the  statements  did  not 
do  more  than  touch  the  fringe  of  the  appalling  truth. 
Though  much  has  been  already  published  in  the 
form  of  tales  and  letters  from  our  soldiers  at  the  front, 
yet  I  hope  that  this  collection  of  stories  will  be  ac- 
cepted as  a  contribution  from  the  British  fighting  man 
to  the  general  history  of  the  earlier  stages  of  the  war — 
those  memorable  preliminary  operations  which  have 
made  a  deep  and  indelible  impression  on  the  British 
race  throughout  the  world. 

WALTER  WOOD. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  I 

MONS    AND   THE    GREAT   RETREAT  ....  1 

PRIVATE  J.    PARKINSON,   1st   Battalion   Gordon    High- 
landers. 

CHAPTER   II 

GERMAN  ATROCITIES     ......       17 

DRIVER  G.  BLOW,  Royal  Field  Artillery. 

CHAPTER  III 

"  GREEN  JACKETS  "  IN  THE  FIRING  LINE        .         .       29 
RIFLEMAN  R.  BRICE,  King's  Royal  Rifle  Corps. 

CHAPTER  IV 

THE  STRUGGLE  ON  THE  AISNE      .         .  41 

PRIVATE  HERBERT  PAGE,  Coldstream  Guards. 

CHAPTER   V 

"THE  MOST  CRITICAL  DAY  OF  ALL"    ...       54 
CORPORAL  F.  W.  HOLMES,  V.C.,  M.M.,  2nd  Battalion 
King's  Own  Yorkshire  Light  Infantry. 

CHAPTER  VI 

BRITISH  FIGHTERS  IN  FRENCH  FORTS  ...       70 
PRIVATE  J.  BOYERS,  Durham  Light  Infantry, 
vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  VII 

GERMAN  TREACHERY  AND  HATRED       ...       82 
CORPORAL  W.  BRATBY,  Middlesex  Regiment. 

CHAPTER  VIII 

LIFE  IN  THE  TRENCHES         .....       94 
PRIVATE  G.  TOWNSEND,  2nd  Battalion  East  Lancashire 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER  IX 

SAPPING  AND  MINING  :  THE  "  LUCKY  COMPANY  "  .     108 
SAPPER  WILLIAM  BELL,  Royal  Engineers. 

CHAPTER   X 

L  BATTERY'S  HEROIC  STAND         .         .         .         .118 
GUNNER  H.  DARBYSHIRE,  Royal  Horse  Artillery. 

CHAPTER  XI 

SIXTEEN  WEEKS  OF  FIGHTING      .         .         .         .135 
PRIVATE  B.  MONTGOMERY,  Royal  West  Kent  Regiment. 

CHAPTER  XII 

A  DAISY-CHAIN  OF  BANDOLIERS  ....     146 
PRIVATE  W.  H.  COOPER  WAITE,  Durham  Light  Infantry. 

CHAPTER  XIII 

DESPATCH-RIDING         .         .         .         .  .     158 

CORPORAL  HEDLEY  G.  BROWNE,  Royal  Engineers. 

CHAPTER     XIV 

THE  THREE  TORPEDOED  CRUISERS        .         .         .169 
ABLE-SEAMAN  C.  C.  NURSE. 


CONTENTS  ix 

PAGE 

CHAPTER   XV 

THE  RUNAWAY  RAIDERS       .         .         .         .         .182 
SAPPER  W.  HALL,  Royal  Engineers. 

CHAPTER  XVI 

CAMPAIGNING  WITH  THE  HIGHLANDERS          .         .191 
PRIVATE  A.  VENESS,  2nd  Battalion  Seaforth  Highlanders. 

CHAPTER   XVII 

TRANSPORT-DRIVING     ......     203 

PRIVATE  JAMES  ROACHE,  Army  Service  Corps. 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

BRITISH  GUNNERS  AS  CAVE-DWELLERS          .         .213 
CORPORAL  E.  H.  BEAN,  Royal  Field  Artillery. 

CHAPTER  XIX 

WITH  THE  "FIGHTING  FIFTH"      ....     225 
PRIVATE  W.  G.  LONG,  1st  Battalion  East  Surrey  Regi- 
ment. 

CHAPTER  XX 

THE  VICTORY  OF  THE  MARNE       ....     236 
CORPORAL  G.  GILLIAM,  Coldstream  Guards. 

CHAPTER  XXI 

AN  ARMOURED  CAR  IN  AMBUSH    ....     256 
TROOPER  STANLEY  DODDS,  Northumberland  Hussars. 

CHAPTER  XXII 

EXPLOITS  OF  THE  LONDON  SCOTTISH     .         .         .     264 

PRIVATE  J.  E.  CARR,  14th  (County  of  London)  Battalion 
London  Regiment  (London  Scottish). 


x  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XXIII 
THE  ROUT  OF  THE  PRUSSIAN  GUARD  AT  YPRES  .     277 

PRIVATE    H.    J.    POLLEY,    2nd    Battalion   Bedfordshire 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  BRITISH  VICTORY  AT  NEUVE  CHAPELLE         .     291 
SERGEANT  GILLIAM,  Coldstream  Guards. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

To  face  page 

L  Battery's  heroic  stand  :  "Another  battery  of  horse-gunners 
was  dashing  to  the  rescue "  .         .        Frontispiece, 

"  We  were  helped   by  the   Germans  throwing  searchlights 

on  us"    .         .         .         . 2 

c<  Some  of  our  cavalry  caught  him "         .  .         .         .16 

"  The  Germans  came  on  and  hurled  themselves  against  us  "    .       38 

' ( From  behind  trees  we  kept  up  a  destructive  fire  on  the 

enemy"  ...  ......       50 

( '  I  hoisted  the  trumpeter  into  the  saddle  "  .         .         .62 

(C  We  found  a  fair  lot  of  Germans  in  houses  and  farms  "  .         .80 

"  We  were  so  near  the  Germans  that  they  could  hurl  bombs 

at  us " 102 

"We  had  a  very  warm  time  of  it" 112 

' '  Planted  a  maxim  on  his  knees  and  rattled  into  the  Germans  "     128 

"The  men  were  told  to  lay  hands  on  anything  that  would 

float" 168 

f(  Good  swimmers  were  helping  those  who  could  not  swim  "     .     180 

"  The  Hogue  began  to  turn  turtle  ;  the  four  immense  funnels 

broke  away  ".........     188 

"  A  bullet  struck  him  in  the  back  and  killed  him  "  .  .  202 
"  We  were  in  a  real  hell  of  bursting  shrapnel"  .  .  .  222 
"  I  took  him  up  and  began  to  carry  him  "  234 


xii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

To  face  page 

"  Before  they  knew  what  was  happening  the  car  was  in  the 

river"      ....  ...  .244 

<f  Cavalry  and  Guards  got  in  amongst  the  Germans  and  fairly 

scattered  them  "........     254 

"  1  made  a  lunge  at  him,  but  just  missed,  and  I  saw  his  own 

long,  ugly  blade  driven  out "...  .         .     286 

( The  infantry  dashed  on  with  the  bayonet "  .         .         .         .     302 


SOLDIERS'    STORIES    OF 
THE   WAR 

CHAPTER  I 

MONS  AND  THE  GREAT  RETREAT 

[History  does  not  give  a  more  splendid  story  of  courage  and 
endurance  than  that  which  is  afforded  by  the  battle  of  Mons 
and  the  subsequent  retreat.  The  British  Expeditionary  Force, 
straight  from  home,  with  no  time  for  preparation,  and  only 
two  days  after  a  concentration  by  rail,  was  confronted  by  at 
least  four  times  its  number  of  the  finest  troops  of  Germany, 
and,  after  a  four  days1  furious  battle,  remained  unconquered 
and  undismayed.  What  might  have  been  annihilation  of  the 
British  forces  had  become  a  throwing  off  of  the  weight  of  the 
enemy's  pursuit,  allowing  a  preparation  for  the  driving  back 
of  the  German  hordes.  At  Mons  the  1st  Battalion  Gordon 
Highlanders  lost  most  of  their  officers,  non-commissioned 
officers  and  men  in  killed,  wounded  and  missing.  This  story 
is  told  by  Private  J.  Parkinson,  of  the  Gordons,  who  was 
invalided  home  at  the  finish  of  the  Great  Retreat.] 

To  be  rushed  from  the  routine  of  a  soldier's  life  at 
home  in  time  of  peace  into  the  thick  of  a  fearful  fight 
on  the  Continent  is  a  strange  and  wonderful  experience ; 
yet  it  happened  to  me,  and  it  was  only  one  of  many 
amazing  experiences  I  went  through  between  leaving 
Southampton  in  a  transport  and  coming  to  a  London 
hospital. 

We  landed  at  Boulogne,  and  went  a  long  journey 
by  train.  At  the  end  of  it  we  found  ourselves,  on 
Saturday,  August  22nd,  billeted  in  a  gentleman's  big 
house  and  we  looked  forward  to  a  comfortable  night, 


2        SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

little  dreaming  that  so  soon  after  leaving  England  we 
should  be  in  the  thick  of  a  tremendous  fight. 

It  was  strange  to  be  in  a  foreign  country,  but  there 
was  no  time  to  dwell  on  that,  and  the  British  soldier 
soon  makes  himself  at  home,  wherever  he  is.  Those 
of  us  who  were  not  on  duty  went  to  sleep ;  but  we  had 
not  been  resting  very  long  when  we  were  called  to 
arms.  That  was  about  half -past  three  o'clock  on  the 
Sunday  morning,  August  23rd. 

There  was  no  bugle  sound,  no  fuss,  no  noise;  we 
were  just  quietly  roused  up  by  the  pickets,  and  as 
quietly  we  marched  out  of  the  chateau  and  went  along 
a  big,  sunken  road — -the  main  road  to  Paris,  I  think. 
We  started  at  once  to  make  trenches  alongside  the 
road,  using  the  entrenching-tool  which  every  soldier 
carries ;  and  we  went  on  steadily  with  that  work  for 
several  hours  on  that  August  Sunday  morning — a 
perfect  Sabbath,  with  a  wonderful  air  of  peace  about 
it.  The  country  looked  beautiful  and  prosperous — 
how  soon  it  was  to  be  turned  into  a  blazing,  ruined 
landscape,  with  thousands  of  dead  and  wounded  men 
lying  on  it  ! 

It  would  be  about  nine  o'clock  when  we  heard  heavy 
firing  in  a  wood  near  us — there  is  plenty  of  wooded 
country  about  Mons — and  we  were  told  that  the 
engineers  were  blowing  up  obstacles ;  so  we  went  on 
entrenching,  for  although  we  knew  that  the  Germans 
were  not  far  away,  we  had  no  idea  they  were  as  close 
as  they  soon  proved  to  be. 

I  am  a  first-class  scout,  and,  with  a  corporal  and 
three  men,  I  was  sent  on  picket  some  time  before 
noon. 

Just  on  the  right  of  us  was  a  farm,  and  the  people 
who  came  out  gave  us  some  beer  and  eggs.  We  drank 


MONS  AND  THE  GREAT  RETREAT   3 

the  beer  and  sucked  the  eggs,  and  uncommonly  good 
they  were,  too,  on  that  blazing  hot  August  Sunday, 
when  everything  looked  so  pleasant  and  peaceful. 
You  had  it  hot  at  home,  I  know ;  but  I  dare  say  we 
had  it  hotter,  and  we  were  in  khaki,  with  a  heavy  kit 
to  carry. 

There  was  a  big  tree  near  us,  and  I  made  for  it  and 
climbed  up,  so  that  I  could  see  better  over  the  country- 
side. I  was  hanging  on  to  a  branch,  and  looking 
around,  when  all  at  once  a  bullet  or  two  came,  and  we 
knew  that  the  Germans  had  spotted  us.  I  got  down 
from  that  tree  a  vast  deal  quicker  than  I  had  got  up 
into  it,  and  we  made  ready  to  rush  back  to  the  trenches ; 
but  before  scuttling  we  told  the  civilians  to  clear  out 
at  once,  and  they  began  to  do  so.  The  poor  souls 
were  taken  aback,  naturally,  but  they  lost  no  time  in 
obeying  the  warning,  leaving  all  their  worldly  treasures 
—belongings  which  they  were  never  to  see  again,  for 
the  German  barbarians  were  soon  to  destroy  them 
shamefully  and  mercilessly,  and,  worse  than  that,  were 
to  take  the  lives  of  innocent  and  inoffensive  people 
who  had  not  done  them  the  slightest  wrong  in  any 
way. 

As  soon  as  we  had  raised  the  alarm  a  whole  section 
of  Germans  opened  fire  on  the  four  of  us,  and  as  we 
could  not  do  anything  against  them,  being  heavily 
outnumbered,  we  ran  for  it  back  to  the  trenches.  Yes, 
we  did  run  indeed,  there  is  no  mistake  about  that. 
Luckily  for  us  we  knew  the  way  back ;  but  if  the  Ger- 
mans had  been  able  to  shoot  for  nuts  with  their  rifles, 
not  one  of  us  would  have  been  spared.  We  laughed 
as  we  ran,  and  one  of  the  scouts,  named  Anderson, 
laughed  so  much  that  he  could  scarcely  run,  though 
there  was  nothing  special  to  laugh  at;  but,  as  you 


4        SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

know,  there  are  some  odd  chaps  amongst  Highlanders. 
They  don't  care  a  rap  for  anything. 

It  was  soon  reported  that  there  were  in  front  of  us 
about  15,000  Germans,  including  some  of  the  finest  of 
the  Kaiser's  troops,  amongst  them  the  Imperial  Guard, 
who  have  worked  military  miracles — at  peace  man- 
oeuvres. And  to  oppose  that  great  body  of  men  we 
had  only  the  8th  Brigade,  consisting  of  the  Royal  Scots, 
the  Royal  Irish,  the  Middlesex— the  old  "  Die-Hards  " 
— and  the  Gordon  Highlanders,  of  which  I  was  in 
B  Company. 

The  Royal  Scots  were  on  our  right,  and  the  Royal 
Irish  and  the  Middlesex  on  our  left.  We  had  Royal 
Field  Artillery,  too,  and  never  did  British  gunners  do 
more  splendid  work  and  cover  themselves  with  greater 
glory  than  in  the  battle  of  Mons. 

The  Royal  Irish  were  getting  their  dinners  when  the 
Germans  opened  fire  on  them  with  their  machine-guns, 
doing  some  dreadful  damage  straight  off,  for  they 
seemed  to  have  the  range,  and  there  was  no  time  for 
the  Royal  Irish  to  get  under  cover. 

That,  I  think,  was  really  the  beginning  of  the  battle ; 
but  I  had  better  try  and  give  you  an  idea  of  the  battle- 
field, so  that  you  can  understand  what  actually  took 
place. 

Mons  itself  is  a  fair-sized  manufacturing  town,  with 
plenty  of  coal-mines  about,  and  we  were  in  a  pleasant 
village  near  it,  the  main  road  to  Paris  cutting  through 
the  village.  From  our  trenches  we  could  see  across 
the  country,  towards  the  mines  and  other  villages,  and 
we  had  a  clear  rifle-range  of  well  over  a  mile,  because  a 
lot  of  obstruction  in  the  shape  of  hedges,  foliage  and 
corn  had  been  cut  away. 

To  our  rear,  on  each  side  of  us,  was  a  forest,  and 


MONS  AND  THE  GREAT  RETREAT   5 

between  the  two  forests  were  our  splendid  gunners, 
who  were  to  do  such  awful  mischief  in  the  German 
hosts.  The  "  Die-Hards  "  were  in  a  sort  of  garden, 
and  I  saw  only  too  clearly  what  happened  to  them 
when  the  fight  was  in  full  swing. 

It  was  just  before  noon  when  the  most  fearful  part 
of  the  battle  started,  and  that  was  the  artillery  duel. 
Our  own  guns  were  making  a  terrible  commotion  near 
us ;  but  the  din  was  a  very  comforting  sound,  because 
it  meant  something  very  bad  for  the  German  gunners, 
who  were  making  havoc  in  our  brigade. 

I  saw  the  awful  effects  of  the  German  shrapnel 
amongst  the  men  of  the  Middlesex  in  that  fair  Belgian 
garden  on  what  should  have  been  a  peaceful  Sunday 
afternoon.  The  Middlesex  were  practically  blown  to 
pieces,  and  the  fearful  way  in  which  they  suffered  was 
shown  later,  when  the  casualty  lists  were  published, 
and  it  was  seen  that  most  of  them  were  either  killed, 
wounded  or  missing. 

Then  the  Gordons'  turn  came.  The  Germans  had 
got  our  position,  and  they  opened  fire  on  us ;  but  we 
were  lucky — perhaps  the  German  batteries  were  too 
far  away  to  be  really  effective.  At  any  rate,  they  did 
not  harm  us  much. 

The  battle  had  opened  swiftly,  and  it  continued 
with  amazing  speed  and  fury,  for  both  sides  soon 
settled  into  their  stride — and  you  know,  of  course,  that 
the  Germans  were  on  the  promenade  to  Paris  and 
were  going  to  mop  the  British  Army  up.  It  took  a  lot 
of  mopping  ! 

Our  own  field-gunners  were  doing  magnificently,  and 
the  Germans  were  first-rate  hands  at  the  deadly  game. 
If  they  had  been  anything  like  as  accurate  with  the 
rifle  as  they  were  with  the  artillery  I  think  that  very 


6        SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

few  British  soldiers  would  have  been  left  to  tell  the 
tale  of  Mons.  But  with  the  rifle  they  were  no  good. 

The  Germans  came  out  of  their  trenches  in  big  heaps 
in  close  formation,  because  their  game  was  to  rush  us 
by  sheer  weight  of  numbers ;  but  we  just  shot  them 
down.  Yet  as  soon  as  we  shot  them  down  others  came 
out,  literally  like  bees.  No  wonder  the  poor  chaps  are 
called  by  their  officers  "  cannon-fodder  "  !  British 
officers  don't  talk  of  their  men  in  that  brutal  way ;  and 
the  British  officer  always  leads — shows  the  way ;  but 
the  German  officer  seems  to  follow  his  men,  and  to 
shove  and  shoot  them  along. 

It  was  marvellous  to  watch  the  Germans  come  on  in 
their  legions,  and  melt  away  under  our  artillery  and 
rifle  fire.  We  simply  took  deliberate  aim  at  the  masses 
of  figures,  grey  clad,  with  their  helmets  covered  with 
grey  cloth ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  not  even  our  absolutely 
destructive  fire  would  stop  them.  On  they  came,  still 
on,  the  living  actually  sheltering  behind  the  dead.  But 
it  was  no  use.  We  kept  them  off,  and  they  kept  them- 
selves off,  too,  for  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  they  had 
a  horror  of  the  bayonet,  and  would  not  come  near  it. 

The  nearest  the  Germans  got  to  us,  as  far  as  I  can 
tell — that  is,  to  the  Gordons — was  about  300  yards ; 
but  that  was  near  enough,  seeing  that  they  outnum- 
bered us  by  four  to  one,  and  were  amongst  the  finest 
troops  of  Germany.  Some  of  the  enemy's  cavalry — 
I  suppose  the  much-talked-of  Uhlans — came  into  the 
sunken  road  in  front  of  us,  hoping  to  do  business ;  but 
our  machine-guns  got  on  them,  and  we  had  a  go  at 
them  with  our  rifles,  with  the  result  that  the  Uhlans 
made  a  cut  for  it  and  most  of  them  got  away.  Even 
so,  there  were  plenty  of  riderless  horses  galloping 
madly  about. 


MONS  AND  THE  GREAT  RETREAT   7 

Our  officers  had  told  us  to  carry  on — and  carry  on 
we  did,  then  and  later. 

What  was  I  feeling  like?  Well,  of  course,  at  the 
start  I  was  in  a  bit  of  a  funk  and  it  wasn't  pleasant ; 
but  I  can  honestly  say  that  the  feeling  soon  vanished, 
as  I'm  certain  it  did  from  all  of  us,  and  we  settled 
down  to  good  hard  pounding,  all  the  time  seeing  who 
could  pound  the  hardest  and  last  longest.  And  I  can 
assure  you  that,  in  spite  of  everything,  men  kept  laugh- 
ing, and  they  kept  their  spirits  up. 

You  see,  we  had  such  splendid  officers,  and  there  is 
always  such  a  fine  feeling  between  officers  and  men  in 
Highland  regiments.  Our  colonel,  a  Gordon  by  name 
and  commanding  the  Gordons,  was  a  real  gallant  Gor- 
don, who  won  his  Victoria  Cross  in  the  South  African 
War — a  regular  warrior  and  a  veteran ;  amongst  other 
things  he  was  in  at  the  storming  of  Dargai,  and  he  had 
more  experience  of  actual  fighting,  I  should  think,  than 
all  the  Germans  in  front  of  us  put  together. 

Another  brave  officer  was  Major  Simpson,  my  com- 
pany officer,  a  Companion  of  the  Distinguished  Service 
Order,  which  is  the  next  best  thing  to  the  V.C.  Major 
Simpson  and  a  private  went  to  fetch  some  ammunition. 
To  do  that  they  had  to  leave  shelter  and  rush  along  in 
a  literal  hail  of  fire — shrapnel  and  bullets.  It  seemed 
as  if  no  living  thing  could  exist,  and  they  were  watched 
with  intense  anxiety.  Shells  were  bursting  all  around 
us — some  in  the  air  and  others  on  the  ground,  though 
there  were  German  shells  that  did  not  burst  at  all. 

Suddenly,  with  a  fearful  shattering  sound,  a  shell 
burst  just  beside  the  major  and  the  private,  and  for 
the  moment  it  looked  as  if  they  had  been  destroyed. 
Some  Gordons  rushed  towards  them,  and  picked  them 
up  and  put  them  on  a  horse.  It  was  seen  that  they 


8        SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

were  badly  hurt,  but  even  so,  and  at  a  time  like  that, 
the  major  actually  laughed,  and  I  am  sure  he  did  it  to 
keep  our  spirits  up.  He  was  taken  away  to  hospital, 
and  was  laughing  still  when  he  said— 

"  It's  all  right,  lads  !  There's  nothing  much  the 
matter  with  me  !  Carry  on  !  " 

Oh,  yes  !  There  were  some  fine  cool  things  done 
on  that  great  Sunday  when  the  Germans  were  like  bees 
in  front  of  us  in  the  turnip-fields  at  Mons,  and  we  were 
settling  down  into  our  stride. 

And  the  N.C.O.'s  were  splendid,  too. 

Our  section  sergeant,  Spence,  when  the  firing  was 
fiercest,  popped  up  to  take  a  shot,  which  is  always  a 
risky  thing  to  do,  because  a  bullet  is  so  much  swifter 
than  a  man's  movements.  The  sergeant  fired,  and 
the  instant  he  had  done  so  he  fell  back  into  the  trench, 
saying,  "  I  believe  they've  got  me  now  !  "  But  they 
hadn't.  He  was  taken  to  hospital,  and  it  was  found 
that  a  bullet  had  come  and  so  cleanly  grazed  his  head 
— on  the  left  side,  like  this — that  the  hair  was  cut  away 
in  a  little  path,  just  like  a  big  parting,  as  if  it  had  been 
shaved.  It  was  touch  and  go  with  death,  the  closest 
thing  you  could  possibly  see ;  but,  luckily,  the  sergeant 
was  all  right,  and  he  made  no  commotion  about  his 
narrow  shave. 

There  was  a  gallant  young  officer  and  brave  gentle- 
man of  the  Gordons — Lieutenant  Richmond — who 
had  been  doing  his  duty  nobly  throughout  that  Sunday 
afternoon. 

Dusk  was  falling,  and  Lieutenant  Richmond  made 
his  way  out  of  the  trench  and  over  the  open  ground, 
crawling,  to  try  and  learn  something  about  the  Ger- 
mans. He  was  crawling  back — that  is  the  only  way 
in  such  a  merciless  fire — and  was  only  about  three 


MONS  AND  THE  GREAT  RETREAT   9 

yards  from  the  trench  when  he  rose  up  and  was  going 
to  make  a  final  dash  for  it.  Just  as  he  rose,  a  bullet 
struck  him  in  the  back  and  came  out  through  his  heart 
— and  killed  him  straight  away.  He  was  in  my  trench, 
and  I  saw  this  happen  quite  clearly.  It  was  such 
sights  as  that  which  made  the  Gordons  all  the  more 
resolved  to  carry  on  and  mow  the  Germans  down  as 
hard  as  they  could — the  Germans  who  seemed  to  be 
for  ever  rushing  at  us  from  the  turnip -fields  in  front 
and  never  getting  any  nearer  than  their  own  barriers 
of  dead. 

I  never  thought  it  possible  that  such  a  hell  of  fire 
could  be  known  as  that  which  we  endured  and  made 
at  Mons.  There  was  the  ceaseless  crackle  of  the  rifles 
on  both  sides,  with  the  everlasting  explosions  of  the 
guns  and  the  frightful  bursting  of  the  shells.  They 
were  particularly  horrible  when  they  burst  on  the 
cobbled  road  close  by — as  hundreds  did — so  near  to 
us  that  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  certain  to  be  shattered 
to  pieces  by  the  fragments  of  shrapnel  which  did  so 
much  mischief  and  killed  so  many  men  and  horses,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  gaping  wounds  they  inflicted  on  the 
troops  and  the  poor  dumb  beasts. 

But  you  can  best  understand  what  the  German 
artillery  fire  was  like  when  I  tell  you  that  all  the  tele- 
graph-poles were  shattered,  the  very  wires  were  torn 
away,  and  trees  were  smashed  and  blown  to  pieces. 
It  seemed  miraculous  that  any  human  being  could  live 
in  such  a  storm  of  metal  fragments  and  bullets. 

From  before  noon  until  dusk,  and  that  was  a  good 
eight  hours,  the  battle  of  Mons  had  been  truly  awful ; 
but  we  had  held  our  own,  and  as  the  evening  came  I 
realised  what  a  fearful  thing  a  modern  battle  is — 
especially  such  a  fight  as  this,  brought  on  in  a  peaceful 


10      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

and  beautiful  country  whose  people  had  done  no 
wrong. 

All  the  villages  in  front  of  us  were  burning,  either 
set  on  fire  deliberately  by  the  Germans,  or  by  shells ; 
but  there  was  no  halting  in  the  fight,  and  when  we 
could  no  longer  see  the  enemy  because  it  was  dark  we 
blazed  away  at  the  flashes  of  their  rifles — thousands 
of  spurts  of  flame;  and  the  field-gunners  crashed  at 
the  straight  lines  of  fire  which  could  be  seen  when  the 
German  artillerymen  discharged  their  guns.  We  were 
helped,  too,  in  a  way  that  many  of  us  never  expected 
to  be,  and  that  was  by  the  Germans  throwing  search- 
lights on  us.  These  long,  ghastly  beams  shone  on  us 
and  gave  a  weird  and  terrible  appearance  to  the  fighters 
in  the  trenches,  and  more  so  to  the  outstretched  forms 
of  soldiers  who  had  fought  for  the  last  time. 

It  was  a  dreadful  yet  fascinating  sight,  and  one 
which  I  shall  never  forget ;  nor  shall  I  ever  forget  the 
extraordinary  fact  that,  in  spite  of  the  annihilating 
hail  of  missiles  and  the  deafening  din  of  battle,  some 
of  our  fellows  in  the  trenches  went  to  sleep,  and  seemed 
to  sleep  as  peacefully  and  soundly  as  if  they  were  in 
feather  beds.  They  went  to  sleep  quite  cheerfully, 
too.  I  should  say  that  half  our  chaps  were  having  a 
doze  in  this  way  and  taking  no  notice  of  the  fight  and 
the  screech  and  roar  of  shells  and  guns. 

Sunday  night — and  such  a  night !  The  sky  red 
with  burning  villages,  the  air  rent  with  awful  noises 
of  guns  and  rifles,  men  and  horses — a  terrible  com- 
motion from  the  devilish  fight  that  was  going  on. 
The  villagers  had  left;  they  had  fled  on  getting  our 
warning,  but  they  were  not  too  far  away  to  see  the 
utter  ruin  of  their  homes. 

I  do  not  want  to  say  too  much  about  the  villagers — 


MONS  AND  THE  GREAT  RETREAT   11 

it  is  too  sad  and  makes  one  too  savage ;  but  I  will  tell 
of  one  incident  I  saw.  An  old  man  was  running  away, 
to  try  and  get  out  of  danger,  when  he  was  hit  in  the 
stomach.  I  saw  him  fall,  and  I  know  that  he  bled  to 
death.  Think  of  that — an  absolutely  innocent  and 
inoffensive  old  man  who  had  done  nothing  whatever 
to  harm  the  brigands  who  were  over-running  Belgium  ! 

Just  about  midnight  we  got  the  order  to  retire. 
We  joined  the  survivors  of  the  8th  Brigade  and  began 
a  march  which  lasted  nearly  all  night.  We  were 
weary  and  worn,  but  as  right  in  spirit  as  ever,  and 
didn't  want  to  retire.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  how- 
ever, and  the  Great  Retreat  began.  Everything  that 
the  Red  Cross  men  could  do  had  been  done  for  the 
wounded ;  but  there  were  some  who  had  to  be  left,  as 
well  as  the  dead. 

It  was  fearfully  hot,  and  we  were  thankful  indeed 
when  we  were  able  to  lie  down  in  a  field  and  get  about 
two  hours'  sleep — the  sleep  that  you  might  suppose  a 
log  has. 

When  we  awoke  it  was  not  to  music  of  birds,  but  of 
shrapnel ;  for  the  Germans  were  following  us  and  be- 
gan to  fire  on  us  as  soon  as  we  started  to  retire  again. 
Hour  after  hour  we  went  on,  feeling  pretty  bad  at 
having  to  retreat ;  but  a  bit  cheered  when,  at  about 
two  o'clock  on  the  Monday  afternoon,  we  began  to  dig 
trenches  again.  We  had  the  field-gunners  behind  us 
once  more,  and  joyous  music  it  was  to  hear  their  shells 
screaming  over  our  heads. 

It  was  about  dinner-time  on  the  Monday  when  we 
had  one  of  the  most  thrilling  experiences  of  the  whole 
fight — one  of  the  extraordinary  incidents  that  have 
become  part  and  parcel  of  a  modern  battle,  although 
only  a  very  few  years  ago  they  were  looked  upon  as 


12      SOLDIERS'   STORIES  OF  THE  WAR 

mad  fancies  or  wild  dreams.  We  were  marching  along 
a  road  when  we  sighted  a  German  aeroplane — a  bird- 
like-looking  thing  in  the  sky.  It  was  keeping  watch 
on  us,  and  signalling  our  position  to  the  main  German 
body.  It  gave  the  position,  and  the  Germans  promptly 
gave  us  some  shells.  The  thing  was  most  dangerous 
and  unpleasant ;  but  the  German  airman  was  not  to 
have  it  all  his  own  way. 

Two  of  our  own  aeroplanes  spotted  him  and  went 
for  him,  just  like  immense  birds — the  whole  business 
might  have  been  carried  out  by  living  creatures  of  the 
air — and  there  was  as  fine  a  fight  in  the  air  as  you 
could  hope  to  see  on  land — firing  and  swift  man- 
oeuvring with  the  object  of  killing  and  destroying,  and 
both  sides  showing  amazing  pluck  and  skill.  It  was  an 
uncommonly  exciting  spectacle,  and  it  became  all  the 
more  thrilling  when  we  opened  fire  with  our  rifles. 

I  blazed  away  as  hard  as  I  could,  but  an  aeroplane 
on  the  wing  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  hit.  Whether  I 
struck  the  machine  or  not  I  can't  say,  but  it  came 
down  in  the  road  just  where  my  company  was.  As 
far  as  I  know  the  aeroplane  was  not  struck — the  chap 
that  was  in  it  planed  down.  He  was  determined  not 
to  be  caught  cheaply,  for  as  soon  as  he  landed  he  fired 
his  petrol  tank  to  destroy  his  machine,  and  then  ran 
for  it.  He  went  off  at  a  hard  lick,  but  some  of  our 
cavalry  rushed  after  him  and  caught  him,  and  it  was 
found  that  he  was  not  hurt. 

Just  on  our  right  was  a  railway,  with  a  big  cutting, 
and  we  were  ordered  to  retire  down  into  it ;  so  into  the 
cutting  we  got  and  along  the  line  we  went,  retreating 
all  that  day  by  the  railway  and  the  roads,  our  gunners 
giving  the  Germans  socks  throughout  that  hard  rear- 
guard action. 


MONS  AND  THE  GREAT  RETREAT   13 

On  the  Tuesday  we  were  still  retreating,  and  a 
miserable  day  it  was,  with  a  deluge  of  rain  that  soaked 
us  to  the  skin.  We  reached  a  village  and  slept  in 
barns,  and  a  good  sleep  we  got,  without  the  trouble  of 
undressing  or  drying  our  clothes  or  taking  our  boots 
off. 

Early  on  the  Wednesday  morning  the  pickets  quietly 
roused  and  warned  us  again,  and  we  went  out  in  front 
of  the  village  and  entrenched. 

There  was  a  big  lot  of  coal-mines  in  front  of  us,  about 
a  mile  away,  with  the  refuse-heaps  that  are  common 
to  mines.  Behind  one  of  these  great  mounds  a  bat- 
tery of  German  artillery  had  got  into  position,  and  one 
of  the  finest  things  you  could  have  seen  was  the  way  in 
which  our  own  grand  gunners  got  on  the  Germans. 
They  seemed  to  have  found  the  range  of  the  enemy 
exactly,  and  that  was  a  good  job  for  us,  because  the 
German  shells  were  dropping  just  between  us  and  our 
own  artillery,  and  we  expected  to  have  them  bang  on 
us.  But  our  guns  silenced  our  opponents,  and,  what 
was  more,  scattered  a  lot  of  German  infantry,  about 
1,500  yards  away,  who  were  making  for  us. 

We  got  straight  into  our  trenches,  and  in  this  respect 
we  were  lucky,  because  we  went  into  one  that  the 
Engineers  had  made,  while  most  of  the  other 
companies  had  to  dig  their  own. 

Our  trench  was  in  a  cornfield.  The  corn  had  been 
cut  down,  and  we  spread  it  and  other  stuff  in  front  of 
the  trenches,  on  top  of  the  earth,  to  make  us  invisible. 
From  that  queer  hiding-place  we  resumed  our  blazing 
away  at  the  pursuing  Germans. 

When  Wednesday  came  we  were  at  Cambrai,  where 
hell  itself  seemed  to  be  let  loose  again ;  for  first  thing 
in  the  morning  we  heard  heavy  artillery  fire  on  all 


14      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE  WAR 

sides  of  us,  and  it  was  clear  that  a  fearful  battle  was 
going  on.  We  were  utterly  worn  and  weary,  but  were 
cheered  by  looking  forward  to  a  good  dinner.  We 
knew  that  the  food  was  in  the  field  cookers,  in  prepara- 
tion for  serving  out  to  the  men.  But  the  dinner  never 
came,  and  it  was  not  until  next  day  that  we  heard  the 
reason  why — then  we  learned  that  a  German  shell  had 
blown  the  field  cookers  to  smithereens. 

Now  all  this  time,  from  the  moment  the  battle 
opened  at  Mons  till  we  were  blazing  away  again  at  the 
Germans  at  Cambrai  we  were  waiting  for  the  French 
to  come — waiting  and  longing,  for  we  were  utterly 
outnumbered  and  completely  exhausted ;  but  we  never 
had  a  glimpse  of  a  Frenchman,  and  we  know  now,  of 
course,  that  the  French  themselves  were  so  hard 
pressed  that  they  could  not  spare  any  help  at  all  for 
the  British. 

At  about  half -past  four  in  the  afternoon  we  resumed 
the  retreat,  for  a  major  of  artillery  had  galloped  up 
and  shouted  "  Retire  !  "  B  Company  retired  across 
the  level  ground  behind  us.  This  was  a  good  bit  off  a 
sunken  road  that  we  wanted  to  get  back  to,  because 
it  would  give  us  comparative  safety.  Eventually  we 
reached  it,  and  were  thankful  to  find  that  we  were 
pretty  secure,  though  shells  were  still  bursting  all 
around  and  over  us. 

From  that  time  we  never  saw  any  more  of  the  rest 
of  the  regiment,  and  I  lost  sight  of  our  gallant  colonel. 
He  became  numbered  with  the  missing.1  There  were 
only  about  175  of  my  own  company  and  parts  of  other 
companies  who  had  got  away  and  joined  us. 

A  terrible  time  it  was  at  Cambrai,  and  one  that  I 

1  Colonel  Gordon  was  twice  reported  killed ;  but  it  was  definitely 
aicertained,  later,  that  he  was  a  prisoner  of  war. 


MONS  AND  THE  GREAT  RETREAT   15 

sha'n't  forget  in  a  hurry.  The  last  I  clearly  remember 
of  the  place  is  that  several  men  were  killed  near  me ; 
but  by  that  time  killing  had  become  a  matter  of  course. 
The  Red  Cross  men  did  noble  work,  but  they  could  not 
cover  all  the  cases.  I  am  sorry  to  say  it,  but  it  is  true 
that  the  Germans  deliberately  fired  on  the  hospitals 
at  Mons  and  also  at  Cambrai.  It  sounds  incredible, 
but  there  were  many  things  done  in  Belgium  by  the 
Germans  that  you  could  not  have  believed  unless  you 
had  seen  them. 

Well,  from  that  dreadful  carnage  at  Cambrai  we 
went  on  retreating,  and  we  never  really  rested  until 
the  Sunday,  seven  days  after  the  battle  started,  when 
we  reached  Senlis,  about  forty  miles  from  Paris.  We 
had  then  marched  between  130  and  140  miles,  and  had 
made  one  of  the  longest,  hardest,  swiftest  and  most 
successful  retreats  in  history — I  say  successful,  because 
Sir  John  French  and  his  generals  had  got  us  out  of 
what  looked  like  a  death-trap.  We  were  cursing  all 
the  time  we  were  retreating — cursing  because  we  had 
to  retire,  though  we  knew  that  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

A  wonderful  change  came  with  the  Wednesday, 
because  we  did  no  more  fighting.  We  forged  ahead, 
blowing  up  bridges  and  doing  all  we  could  to  stop  the 
Germans. 

We  had  a  splendid  time  going  through  France,  as 
we  had  had  in  going  through  Belgium,  and  when  we 
reached  Paris  there  was  nothing  the  French  people 
thought  too  good  for  us.  We  were  taken  across  Paris 
in  char-a-bancs,  and  flowers,  cigarettes  and  five-franc 
pieces  were  thrown  at  us.  A  lot  of  Americans  spoke 
to  us,  and  were  very  kind.  They  were  particularly 
anxious  to  know  how  we  were  getting  on,  and  what 
we  had  gone  through.  It  was  very  pleasant  to  hear 


16      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

our  own  language,  as  most  of  us  did  not  understand  a 
word  of  French. 

We  trained  to  Rouen,  but  had  not  the  slightest  idea 
that  we  were  going  to  England — we  thought  we  were 
being  sent  to  hospital  at  Havre ;  but  at  that  port  we 
were  put  into  motors  and  driven  down  to  the  quay 
and  shoved  on  board  a  transport  and  brought  at  last 
to  London. 

I  am  not  wounded.  I  was  struck  on  the  leg  by  a 
bullet,  but  it  did  not  really  hurt  me.  I  was  utterly 
worn  out  and  exhausted,  however,  and  rheumatism 
set  in  and  crippled  me,  so  I  was  sent  to  hospital ;  and 
here  I  am.  But  I'm  almost  fit  and  well  now,  and  all  I 
want  to  do  is  to  fall  in  again  before  the  fighting's  done. 


[To  face  p.  16. 


SOME  OF  OUR  CAVALRY  CAUGHT  HIM  "  (p.  12). 


CHAPTER  II 

GERMAN    ATROCITIES 

[The  war  was  begun  by  Germany  in  a  spirit  of  ruthlessness 
which  was  to  spare  neither  man,  woman  nor  child,  and  waa 
to  leave  innocent  people  "  only  their  eyes  to  weep  with."  The 
neutrality  of  Belgium  was  outraged  and  German  hosts  poured 
into  that  country.  In  repelling  them  an  immortal  part  waa 
played  by  the  British  Expeditionary  Force,  which  fought 
against  enormous  odds.  This  story  of  the  earlier  days  of  the 
war  is  told  from  the  narrative  of  Driver  George  William  Blow, 
Royal  Field  Artillery,  who  was  invalided  home  after  having 
two  of  his  ribs  broken  and  five  horses  killed  under  him.] 

IT  was  a  blazing  hot  Sunday,  and  the  place  was 
Mons.  We  had  got  into  camp  about  one  on  the 
Saturday  afternoon,  and  had  billeted  till  four  on 
the  Sunday  morning,  when  we  were  ordered  to 
harness  up  and  prepare  for  action,  but  we  did  not 
receive  actual  fighting  orders  until  noon ;  then  we 
had  to  march  into  a  place  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  as  soon  as  we  reached  it  German  shells  burst 
over  us. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  a  long  and  terrible 
battle.  We  went  straight  into  it,  without  any  warn- 
ing; but  the  Germans  were  ready,  and  knew  what 
to  expect,  because  they  had  been  waiting  for  us  for 
forty-eight  hours. 

It  was  field  artillery  we  were  up  against.  The 
Germans  at  that  time  had  not  got  the  big  siege  guns, 
c  17 


18      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE  WAR 

which  we  called  Black  Marias,  Jack  Johnsons  and 
Coal  Boxes.  I  will  tell  you  about  them  later. 

We,  the  drivers,  took  the  guns  up  into  action, 
then  we  retired  under  cover  with  the  horses.  While 
we  were  retiring  the  bullets  from  the  German  shells 
were  dropping  all  around  us,  and  farther  away  our 
men  at  the  guns  and  the  other  troops  were  carrying 
on  that  desperate  fight  against  immense  odds  which 
will  be  always  known  as  the  battle  of  Mons.  From 
start  to  finish  we  were  heavily  outnumbered,  but  we 
knocked  them  out. 

We  were  soon  hard  at  it,  pounding  away,  while 
our  infantry  were  simply  mowing  the  Germans  down. 
We  had  some  terrible  fire  to  put  up  with,  and  at 
the  end  of  about  four  hours  we  were  forced  to  retire 
from  the  position.  At  that  time  we  were  the  only 
battery  left  in  action  out  of  the  whole  of  our  brigade. 

An  officer  was  sent  to  reconnoitre,  to  see  where 
we  could  retire  to,  and  he  picked  out  a  little  valley, 
a  sort  of  rain -wash,  and  the  battery  thundered  into 
it.  This  was  a  hard  place  to  tackle,  and  all  our  atten- 
tion was  needed  to  keep  the  horses  from  falling  down, 
because  the  ground  was  so  rough  and  steep. 

So  far  we  had  not  seen  any  of  the  German  infantry 
at  close  quarters,  but  as  soon  as  we  had  got  into 
the  level  of  the  valley  we  ran  into  a  lot  of  them, 
and  saw  that  we  were  ambushed.  In  this  ambush 
I  had  one  of  the  experiences  that  were  so  common 
in  the  retreat,  but  I  was  lucky  enough  to  come  out 
of  it  safely.  Many  gallant  deeds  were  done  there 
which  will  never  be  officially  known — for  instance, 
when  we  were  going  through  the  valley  and  were 
being  heavily  fired  on,  and  it  seemed  as  if  there 
was  no  chance  for  us,  Corporal  Holiday  ran  the 


GERMAN   ATROCITIES  19 

gauntlet  twice  to  warn  us  that  the  enemy  had  us  in 
ambush. 

We  made  a  desperate  effort  to  get  out  of  the 
valley,  but  before  we  could  get  clear  many  horses 
were  shot  down,  amongst  them  being  the  one  I  was 
riding.  I  did  the  only  thing  I  could  do — I  lay  there 
amongst  the  dead  horses.  I  had  had  a  narrow 
shave,  for  my  cap  had  been  shot  off  by  a  piece  of 
shell. 

The  first  gun  and  two  waggons  had  got  through, 
and  our  corporal  could  have  got  safely  out,  but  he 
wasn't  built  that  way,  and  wasn't  thinking  about 
himself. 

He  shouted,  "  Well,  boys,  your  horses  are  down, 
and  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  run  for  it." 

I  scrambled  up  and  dashed  through  some  brambles 
—they  nearly  scratched  me  to  pieces.  Just  as  I  and 
one  or  two  more  men  got  out  five  Germans  potted 
at  us.  I  had  no  weapon — nothing  except  my  whip— 
if  we  had  had  arms  we  could  have  settled  a  lot  of 
Germans  that  day — so  I  had  to  make  a  dash  for 
cover.  But  the  corporal,  with  his  rifle,  did  splendidly, 
for  he  picked  off  three  of  the  Germans,  and  the  other 
two  bolted. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  corporal  I  should  not 
have  been  here  to  tell  the  tale ;  I  should  either  have 
been  killed  or  made  a  prisoner.  Had  it  not  been 
for  him,  in  fact,  they  would  have  wiped  the  lot  of  us 
completely  out. 

We  were  in  that  deadly  ambush  for  about  five 
hours — from  five  till  ten — no  gunners  with  us,  only 
drivers.  It  was  night  and  dark,  but  the  darkness 
was  made  terrible  by  the  glare  of  the  villages  which 
the  Germans  had  set  fire  to. 


20      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

There  we  were,  ambushed  and  imprisoned  in  the 
valley,  unable  to  move  either  backward  or  forward, 
because  the  roadway  was  choked  up  with  dead 
horses. 

At  last  our  major  went  away  some  distance,  and 
inquired  of  a  woman  in  a  house  which  would  be  the 
best  way  for  us  to  get  out  of  the  valley.  While 
he  was  talking  with  her  the  house  was  surrounded 
by  Germans,  and  it  seemed  certain  that  he  would 
be  discovered;  but  in  the  darkness  they  could  not 
make  him  clearly  out,  and  he  was  clever  enough  to 
shout  to  them  in  their  own  language.  It  was  a 
critical  and  dangerous  time,  but  the  major  scored. 
He  baffled  the  Germans,  and  got  himself  out  of  the 
house,  and  us  out  of  the  ambush  in  the  valley.  It 
was  a  splendid  performance  and  I  believe  the  major 
was  recommended  for  the  D.S.O.  on  account  of  it. 

We  were  thankful  when  we  were  clear  of  the 
valley,  but  about  two  miles  farther  on  we  ran  into 
some  more  Germans;  there  were  Germans  every- 
where, they  swarmed  over  the  whole  countryside, 
day  and  night,  and,  as  I  have  told  you,  they  heavily 
outnumbered  us  all  the  time  and  at  every  turn.  But 
by  this  time  we  were  better  able  to  meet  them,  for 
we  had  plenty  of  infantry  with  us — Gordons,  and 
Wiltshire  and  Sussex  men — who  were  joining  in  the 
retreat. 

That  retirement  was  a  terrible  business.  Our  in- 
fantry had  been  fighting  in  the  trenches  and  in  the 
open,  and  they  were  fighting  all  the  time  they  were 
retiring.  The  Germans  gave  them  no  rest,  and,  like 
the  barbarians  some  of  them  are,  they  showed  no 
mercy  to  our  wounded,  as  we  discovered  when  we 
got  back  to  Mons  again,  as  we  did  in  time.  We  saw 


GERMAN  ATROCITIES  21 

lots  of  our  wounded  who  had  been  killed  by  the  butts 
of  the  Prussian  bullies'  rifles.  They  had  the  finest 
troops  of  Prussia  at  Mons,  and  I  suppose  the  braggarts 
wanted  to  get  some  of  their  own  back  for  having  been 
so  badly  mauled  by  Sir  John  French's  "  contemptible 
little  army." 

In  the  earlier  hours  of  the  battle,  during  that  awful 
Sunday  at  Mons  and  in  the  neighbourhood,  the 
British  had  suffered  heavily.  Twelve  men  of  my 
own  battery  and  a  dozen  of  the  horses  had  been 
killed,  and  a  waggon  limber  had  been  blown  to  pieces. 
Mind  you,  I  am  talking  only  of  our  own  battery 
and  our  own  brigade,  and  dealing  with  only  a  very 
small  part  of  the  battle.  No  man  who  shared  in  it 
can  do  more.  Our  brigade  consisted  of  three  batteries 
of  six  guns  each. 

It  had  been  a  day  of  ceaseless  fighting  and  terrific 
strain  on  men  and  horses,  and  we  were  utterly  done 
up  when  we  got  into  camp  at  about  one  on  the 
Monday  morning.  We  hoped  we  might  rest  a  bit, 
but  we  had  to  harness  up  at  two,  and  shift  off  at 
three,  because  the  Germans  were  preparing  to  shell 
the  village  we  were  in. 

There  was  a  hospital  in  the  village,  and  by  that 
time  a  good  many  of  our  wounded  were  in  it.  The 
Germans  could  see  plainly  enough  that  it  was  a 
hospital,  and  knew  that  it  must  be  filled  with  wounded, 
but  they  deliberately  shelled  it  and  set  fire  to  it. 
Our  captain  and  my  sergeant  were  in  the  hospital 
when  the  Germans  fired  it,  but  I  don't  know 
whether  they  got  away  or  were  left  in  the  burning 
building. 

By  the  time  we  were  on  the  move  again  it  was 
full  daylight.  We  dropped  into  action  again  three 


22      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

or  four  times,  but  were  forced  to  resume  our  retire- 
ment, harassed  all  the  time  by  the  Germans. 

During  the  retirement  we  had  several  shots  at 
German  aeroplanes,  which  were  flying  about  spying 
out  our  positions  and  signalling  them  to  their  own 
people;  but  field-guns  are  not  much  use  against 
aircraft,  because  the  muzzles  cannot  be  elevated 
sufficiently  high.  You  need  howitzers  for  the  work, 
because  they  are  specially  made  for  high-angle  fire 
and  can  throw  their  shots  right  over  aeroplanes. 

We  were  retiring  from  the  Monday  till  the  Wednes- 
day; then  we  got  the  order  to  drop  into  action 
again.  That  was  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  by  that  time  we  were  at  Cambrai,  a  good  dis- 
tance from  Mons,  as  you  can  see  from  the  map. 

Mons  was  bad,  but  Cambrai  was  far  worse.  We 
had  been  retreating  all  the  time,  day  and  night, 
fighting  a  heavy  rearguard  action,  so  that  men  and 
horses  were  utterly  worn  out.  Again  the  artillery 
did  splendid  work,  and  had  to  pay  for  it.  The  6th 
Battery  had  lost  two  guns  and  a  waggon  at  Mons, 
because  the  horses  were  killed,  and  they  also  had 
another  gun  put  out  of  action.  They  lost  a  further 
gun  at  Cambrai,  and  the  battery  was  almost  com- 
pletely cut  up,  but  for  their  loss  we  in  the  23rd  Battery 
were  able  to  make  up  in  a  way. 

Our  own  guns  were  concealed  so  cleverly  that  the 
Germans  could  not  find  them  anyhow.  The  nearest 
they  could  get  to  us  was  about  fifty  yards  in  front 
or  fifty  yards  behind,  and  in  dropping  shells  fifty 
yards  make  a  lot  of  difference,  as  the  Germans  found 
to  their  cost.  Our  concealed  battery*  did  heavy 
execution  amongst  them,  and  they  deserved  all  they 
got. 


GERMAN  ATROCITIES  23 

When  I  was  clear  of  the  valley  I  got  two  fresh 
horses;  but  at  Cambrai,  on  the  Wednesday,  they 
were  both  killed.  A  shell  burst  and  took  off  the 
head  of  the  riding  horse,  and  bullets  killed  the 
off  horse,  so  I  was  dismounted  again;  and  not  a 
few  of  my  chums  were  in  the  same  unfortunate 
position. 

Cambrai  was  the  last  battle  we  had  before  we 
turned  the  tables  on  the  Germans,  and  began  to 
drive  them  back  at  the  Marne,  where  a  tremendous 
fight  went  on  for  many  days.  Altogether  we  had 
been  retiring  pretty  well  a  week,  and  we  rejoiced 
when  the  advance  began. 

The  advance  made  new  men  of  us,  especially  when 
we  saw  what  the  Germans  had  done.  There  were 
plenty  of  wrecks  of  our  convoys  on  the  roads,  where 
the  enemy  had  got  at  them.  That  sort  of  thing  was 
all  right,  of  course,  and  came  in  fairly  enough  in 
warfare ;  but  it  made  our  blood  boil  to  see  the  wanton 
damage  that  these  so-called  civilised  soldiers  had  com- 
mitted on  a  people  who  had  done  no  greater  crime 
than  defend  their  hearths  and  families. 

You  ask  about  German  cruelties  and  barbarities. 
Well,  I  will  tell  you  something  about  what  I  saw 
myself,  and  people  can  form  their  own  opinion  as  to 
what  generally  happened. 

When  the  British  troops  retired  from  Mons  the 
villages  and  the  country  were  untouched.  No  words 
can  tell  how  kind  the  Belgians  and  the  French  were 
to  us,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  that  they  were  no  worse 
for  our  passage  through  their  towns  and  villages  and 
farms.  They  gave  us  food  and  wine,  and  helped  our 
sick  and  wounded,  and  wherever  they  were  they  did 
all  they  could  for  us. 


24      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Villages  and  towns  and  farms  were  peaceful  and 
prosperous  when  we  passed  through  them  first;  but 
they  were  terribly  changed  when  we  returned  and 
went  through  them  a  second  time,  after  the  Germans 
had  been  at  their  foul  work.  Sword,  rifle,  artillery 
and  fire  had  done  their  dreadful  mischief,  and  deeds 
had  been  committed  which  filled  us  with  horror.  I 
will  mention  two  or  three  things  by  way  of  illustra- 
tion, and  these  are  only  instances  of  hosts  of  cases. 

On  the  first  day  of  the  advance  we  were  passing 
through  a  small  village.  I  saw  a  little  child  which 
seemed  to  be  propped  up  against  a  window.  There 
were  some  infantry  passing  at  the  same  time  as  our- 
selves— Gordons,  I  think  they  were — and  one  of  the 
officers  went  into  the  cottage  and  took  the  little 
creature  from  the  window.  He  found  that  it  was 
dead.  The  Germans  had  killed  it. 

The  officer  had  a  look  over  the  house,  and  in  the 
next  room  he  found  the  mother.  She  was  dead  also, 
and  mutilated  in  a  most  ferocious  way. 

The  interior  of  the  cottage  was  in  a  state  of  absolute 
wreckage.  The  barbarians  had  not  spared  anything. 
They  had  destroyed  the  furniture,  thrown  everything 
about,  and  done  their  best  to  ruin  inoffensive  people 
whose  country  they  had  laid  waste,  and  who  had  not 
done  them  the  slightest  wrong.  When  our  men  saw 
that,  they  went  almost  mad. 

I  will  give  you  another  instance.  We  passed 
through  a  village  about  two  hours  after  some  of  the 
braggart  Uhlans  had  visited  it,  and  we  saw  how 
courageous  they  can  be  when  they  have  only  old 
men  and  women  and  children  to  deal  with.  They 
sing  a  different  song  when  the  British  cavalry  are 
after  them.  There  was  a  farmhouse  which  had  been 


GERMAN   ATROCITIES  25 

the  home  of  two  old  people,  a  farmer  and  his  wife. 
I  believe  the  poor  old  couple  looked  after  the  farm 
themselves. 

We  found  the  old  lady  at  the  farm  all  alone,  and 
I  saw  her.  A  pitiful  spectacle  she  was,  and  well  she 
might  be,  for  the  Uhlans  had  come  and  taken  her 
poor  old  husband  out  into  a  field  and  shot  him,  and 
left  his  dead  body  there.  They  had  robbed  the  house 
of  everything — all  the  money  and  every  bit  of  food — 
and  had  left  the  old  lady  almost  demented. 

When  our  own  troops  came  up  they  gave  the  poor 
old  soul — she  was  sitting  outside  the  house,  crying — 
the  bully  beef  and  biscuits  which  had  been  served 
out  to  them  that  very  morning,  and  which  they 
themselves  needed  badly. 

We  heard  of  several  cases  like  that  from  the  people 
of  the  country  as  we  returned  through  it,  and  cases 
of  these  German  bullies  holding  revolvers  to  women's 
heads  and  forcing  the  frightened  creatures  to  give 
them  their  rings  and  jewellery  and  everything  they 
could  lay  their  hands  on.  This  was  the  sort  of  thing 
we  saw,  or  heard  at  first  hand,  and  it  made  us  all 
the  more  thankful  that  we  were  driving  the  Germans 
back  and  getting  level  with  them. 

We  fell  into  action  that  morning  about  seven 
o'clock.  We  had  to  make  our  way  straight  across 
country,  regardless  of  fields  or  roads;  and  all  the 
time  the  Germans  shelled  us.  It  didn't  matter  where 
we  were,  the  shells  fell  beyond  us;  but  the  enemy 
weren't  clever  enough  to  find  our  twelve  batteries, 
which  were  in  action,  and  which  properly  "  gave 
them  socks." 

We  held  that  village  till  about  eight  o'clock,  then 
we  started  on  the  advance  again,  driving  the  Germans 


26      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

back;    and  when  once  they  start  going  they  travel 
very  quickly — when  the  enemy  is  after  them. 

That  was  the  last  battle  we  had  before  we  got  to 
the  river  Marne.  So  far,  we  had  had  a  lot  to  do 
with  the  German  field-guns;  now  we  were  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  bigger  chaps  I  have  referred 
to — Black  Marias,  Coal  Boxes  and  Jack  Johnsons, 
as  I  have  said  we  called  them,  because  they  fired  a 
big  shell,  a  90-pounder,  which  burst  and  made  a 
thick  cloud  of  filthy,  greasy  smoke  which  was  enough 
to  poison  you  if  it  got  at  you.  I  believe  that  the 
fumes  of  some  of  the  German  shells  will  actually  kill 
you  if  you  get  them  properly  into  your  system. 

The  Battle  of  the  Marne  was  a  long  and  big  affair, 
lasting  about  three  weeks,  and  the  Black  Marias  did 
a  good  deal  of  mischief.  On  the  Sunday,  as  our 
ambulance  waggons  retired,  the  Germans  shelled  them 
with  these  siege  guns,  and  blew  them  to  pieces.  At 
the  finish  there  was  not  an  ambulance  waggon  avail- 
able. Yes,  that  is  what  they  did,  and  it  was  done 
deliberately,  because  any  soldier  can  tell  an  ambulance 
waggon  when  he  sees  it. 

The  Germans  stuck  at  nothing  to  gain  their  ends ; 
no  trick  is  too  dirty  for  them  to  play.  One  particu- 
larly vile  one  was  the  using  of  ambulance  waggons  for 
the  purpose  of  carrying  machine-guns.  Our  troops 
did  not  dream  of  firing  at  ambulance  waggons ;  but 
when  we  saw  that  this  wicked  use  was  being  made  of 
them — and  we  did  see  it,  for  they  came  quite  close 
to  us — we  gave  the  Germans  in  them  what  for. 

The  Germans  tried  three  or  four  times  to  break 
through  our  lines,  but  our  Tommies  were  too  good 
for  them,  and  sent  them  back  a  great  deal  faster  than 
they  had  come  on.  They  swept  them  away  with  rifle 


GERMAN    ATROCITIES  27 

fire,  and  the  Germans  never  had  a  chance  when  our 
men  could  get  fairly  in  with  the  bayonet. 

During  that  long  month  of  fighting  we  were  in  a 
good  many  places  in  France  and  Belgium.  At  one 
time  we  were  actually  on  the  field  of  Waterloo,  and 
could  see  in  the  distance  the  monument  put  up  in 
memory  of  the  battle.  I  dare  say  the  Germans 
fancied  they  were  going  to  do  a  lot  with  us  at  Water- 
loo; but  it  all  ended  in  fancy,  and  we  kept  on  the 
driving  game  with  them  till  they  were  altogether 
forced  back. 

When  we  could  get  at  them  we  could  beat  them, 
though  they  were  sometimes  about  ten  to  one,  and 
in  one  little  affair  I  saw  twenty  of  our  "  Jocks  " 
Gordons,  I  think  they  were — scatter  something  like 
two  hundred  Germans.  The  Jocks  badly  wanted  to 
get  at  the  Germans  with  the  steel,  but  the  Germans 
just  as  badly  didn't  want  to  be  bayoneted,  and  those 
who  weren't  shot  scuttled. 

The  fighting  was  not  the  only  hard  part  of  the 
Battle  of  the  Marne.  For  nearly  three  weeks  we 
never  had  a  dry  shirt  on  owing  to  the  wet  weather, 
and  we  never  had  our  boots  off;  we  hadn't  time  for 
it,  and  we  were  kept  too  well  at  it.  The  poor  horses 
were  fearfully  knocked  up.  They  were  like  us— 
never  had  a  chance  to  rest — and  were  three  or  four 
days  without  food. 

Once,  during  the  retirement,  we  had  only  two  hours' 
rest  in  four  days;  but  we  daren't  stop.  Sometimes 
we  were  on  foot,  sometimes  in  the  saddle,  and  the 
Germans  were  after  us  in  motor-lorries,  full  of  troops. 

But  however  badly  they  handled  us,  I  think  it  was 
nothing  to  the  way  in  which  we  mangled  them  when 
our  artillery  got  really  to  work,  and  especially  when 


28      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

it  came  to  "  gun  fire  "  —that  is,  rapid  firing,  each 
gun  firing  as  soon  as  it  is  loaded.  This  means  that 
you  take  no  time  between  rounds ;  you  simply  blaze 
away,  and  the  guns  become  quite  hot.  In  one  par- 
ticular position  every  sub-section  fired  150  rounds,  so 
that,  taking  a  whole  battery,  I  should  think  they 
pretty  well  fired  a  thousand  rounds  in  a  day. 

It  was  on  the  Marne  that  my  fifth  horse  was  killed 
under  me.  A  shell  struck  him,  and  before  I  could 
clear  myself  I  fell  over  into  a  ditch,  the  horse  on  top 
of  me,  shot  and  shell  flying  all  around  as  I  went 
over.  Two  of  my  ribs  were  broken,  and  I  was  put 
out  of  action.  I  was  picked  up  and  carried  down  to 
the  camp.  I  was  in  hospital  there  for  three  days 
before  I  was  sent  to  London. 

I  had  a  complete  Uhlan's  uniform  with  me,  and 
wanted  to  bring  it  home,  but  this  bit  of  the  saddle 
is  all  I  have  left.  The  Uhlan's  saddle  is  a  wonderful 
thing,  weighing  78  lb.,  compared  with  12  Ib.  for  the 
British  saddle.  Here  is  the  piece;  you  can  see  that 
it  is  filled  in  with  lead — why,  I  don't  know.  And  here 
is  the  torn  khaki  jacket  I  was  wearing  when  my  fifth 
horse  was  killed  under  me  at  the  Marne — and  this  part 
is  sodden  with  his  blood. 

I  had  a  round  month  of  fighting,  retreating,  ad- 
vancing, and  fighting  again,  and  apart  from  the  broken 
ribs  I  was  utterly  done  up ;  but  I  am  pretty  well  again 
now.  I  am  just  off  to  see  the  doctor ;  the  day  after 
to-morrow  I  am  to  get  married,  the  next  day  I  rejoin, 
and  after  that — well,  who  can  tell  ? 


CHAPTER  III 

'    IN   THE    FIRING   LINE 

[The  King's  Royal  Rifle  Corps,  the  famous  old  60th  Rifles, 
the  "  Greenjackets,'1  have  had  a  large  share  in  the  war  and 
have  added  to  their  glorious  distinctions.  Many  of  the  officers 
of  this  regiment  have  given  their  lives  for  their  country,  amongst 
them  being  Prince  Maurice  of  Battenberg.  Some  details  of 
the  Prince's  service  in  the  war  before  he  was  killed  in  action 
are  given  in  this  story  by  Rifleman  Brice,  of  the  60th,  who 
was  wounded  at  the  Battle  of  the  Aisne  and  invalided  home.] 

WHEN  we  first  landed  in  France  we  were  welcomed 
and  cheered  by  crowds  of  French  people  who  decked 
us  with  flowers  and  couldn't  do  too  much  for  us,  and 
they  kept  that  kindness  up  all  the  time  I  was  over 
there  until  I  was  sent  home  with  a  lot  more  wounded. 
Throwing  flowers  at  us  was  a  great  deal  pleasanter 
than  the  shells  and  bullets  which  were  shot  at  us  a  few 
days  later,  when  we  were  in  the  thick  of  trench- 
digging  and  fighting.  It's  astonishing  how  soon  you 
settle  down  to  a  state  of  things  that  you've  never 
been  used  to  and  how  extraordinarily  war  alters  life 
and  people. 

The  Greenjackets  are  very  proud  of  themselves, 
especially  in  time  of  peace,  and  have  many  little  ways 
of  their  own;  but  a  war  like  this  makes  all  soldiers 
chums  and  equals  and  even  the  officers  are  practically 
just  like  the  men.  Our  own  colonel  did  his  share  in 
the  trench-digging,  and  a  royal  officer  like  Prince 

29 


30      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Maurice  of  Battenberg,  who  is  now  resting  in  a  sol- 
dier's grave,  was  living  the  same  life  as  the  rest  of  us. 
Many  an  act  of  kindness  did  the  Prince  show  to  his 
riflemen,  and  many  a  fierce  fight  he  shared  in  before 
he  was  killed  in  battle ;  many  a  word  of  cheer  did  he 
utter  to  men  who  were  almost  exhausted  and  nearly 
dying  of  thirst,  and  I  have  seen  him  go  and  buy  fresh 
bread,  when  it  could  be  got,  and  give  it  to  us  as  a 
treat — and  a  glorious  treat  it  was  ! 

One  of  the  first  things  we  had  to  do  after  the  retire- 
ment from  Mons  was  to  bury  German  dead,  and  you 
will  get  some  idea  of  the  awful  losses  they  suffered, 
even  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  when  I  tell  you  that 
in  one  place  alone  we  were  about  eight  hours  in  doing 
this  unpleasant  task. 

We  got  used  to  digging  ourselves  in  and  being 
shelled  out,  and  to  guarding  towns  and  villages  while 
the  panic-stricken  inhabitants  escaped  to  safety.  It 
was  a  pitiful  sight  to  see  people  turned  out  of  their 
houses,  taking  their  belongings,  when  they  could,  in 
carts,  perambulators,  wheelbarrows  and  every  avail- 
able conveyance.  They  always  kept  as  close  to  us  as 
they  could  keep,  and  our  fellows  used  to  collect  money 
amongst  themselves  for  the  poor  souls  and  give  them 
all  the  food  they  could  spare — and  they  were  very 
grateful  if  we  gave  them  only  a  biscuit. 

It  was  terrible  work  on  our  way  to  the  Aisne ;  but 
the  hardships  were  lightened  for  us  in  many  little 
ways  that  counted  a  lot.  Some  of  our  officers  would 
carry  two  rifles,  when  men  became  too  weary  to  carry 
their  own ;  the  colonel  would  jump  off  his  horse  and  give 
an  exhausted  man  a  lift  in  the  saddle,  and  he  would 
take  apples  from  his  pockets  and  pass  them  along  the 
ranks  to  the  men.  These  acts  of  kindness  helped  us 


•  GREEN  JACKETS  '  IN  THE  FIRING  LINE    31 

all  enormously.  And  we  were  helped  on  the  way  by 
smoking — what  a  joy  it  was  to  get  a  fag,  especially 
when  cigarettes  ran  so  short  that  one  would  go  round 
a  dozen  times,  passed  from  man  to  man,  and  a  chap 
was  sorely  tempted  to  take  a  pull  that  was  almost 
enough  to  fill  him  with  smoke.  When  we  hadn't  a 
scrap  of  tobacco  of  any  sort  we  would  roll  a  fag  of 
dried  tea-leaves  which  had  been  used  for  making  tea— 
and  that  was  better  than  nothing. 

It  was  fighting  all  the  way  to  the  Aisne,  heavy  rear- 
guard actions  most  of  the  time,  though  in  a  lesser  war 
many  of  these  affairs  would  have  been  reckoned 
proper  battles.  One  night,  at  about  ten  o'clock, 
after  a  hard  march,  we  had  reached  a  town,  and  had 
thankfully  gone  into  our  billets — houses,  barns,  any 
sort  of  place  that  came  handy,  and  we  were  expecting 
a  peaceful  time;  but  we  were  no  sooner  settling 
down  than  we  got  the  alarm  to  dress  and  fall  in. 
Getting  dressed  was  the  work  of  seconds  only, 
because  undressing  was  merely  a  case  of  putting 
the  pack  and  equipment  and  rifle  down  and  resting 
on  the  flags  or  earth,  or,  if  we  were  lucky,  hay  or 
straw;  and  so,  when  the  alarm  was  given,  we  very 
soon  fell  in,  and  with  fixed  bayonets  we  rushed  for  a 
bridge  across  the  river  that  we  had  been  ordered  to 
take. 

At  the  point  of  the  bayonet  the  bridge  was  carried 
with  a  splendid  rush,  then  we  had  to  hold  it  while  our 
transport  and  ammunition  column  got  out  of  the  town, 
and  there  we  were  till  seven  o'clock  next  morning. 
The  main  body  of  the  troops  retired  and  left  us  as  a 
rearguard;  but  they  had  not  gone  from  the  town 
more  than  ten  minutes  when  we  saw  the  Germans 
coming  towards  the  bridge  in  swarms.  There  was  no 


32       SOLDIERS5   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

help  for  it — we  had  to  get  away  from  the  bridge  which 
we  had  held  throughout  the  night. 

We  began  to  retire  in  good  order,  fighting  desper- 
ately, and  our  men  falling  killed  and  wounded.  Yard 
by  yard  we  fell  back  from  the  bridge,  firing  as  furiously 
as  we  could  at  the  German  masses,  and  for  half  a  mile 
we  kept  up  an  unequal  rearguard  struggle.  It  seemed 
that  we  should  be  hopelessly  outnumbered  and  that 
there  was  little  hope ;  then  we  saw  two  divisions  of 
the  French  advancing,  and  knew  that  we  should  pull 
through.  The  French  came  on  and  gave  us  help,  and, 
covering  our  retirement,  enabled  us  to  get  away  from 
the  bridge. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  charges  on  a  bridge  which  was 
held  by  the  Germans,  just  before  we  got  to  the  Aisne, 
that  Prince  Maurice  distinguished  himself.  He  was 
very  daring  and  was  always  one  of  the  first  in  the 
fighting,  no  matter  where  or  what  it  was.  I  was  not 
actually  in  the  charge,  being  in  the  supports  behind ; 
but  I  saw  the  charge  made,  and  a  grand  sight  it  was  to 
watch  our  fellows  rush  forward  with  the  steel  and  take 
the  bridge.  At  another  time  the  Prince  was  in  action 
with  a  German  rearguard  and  narrowly  escaped  death. 
I  was  in  this  affair,  and  saw  a  German  shell  burst  about 
a  yard  away.  It  plugged  into  the  ground  and  made 
a  fine  commotion  and  scattered  earth  and  fragments 
around  us;  but  a  chum  and  myself  laughed  as  we 
dodged  it,  and  that  was  the  way  we  got  into  of  taking 
these  explosions  when  we  became  used  to  the  war. 
You  could  not  help  laughing,  even  if  you  were  a  bit 
nervous.  During  this  fight  Prince  Maurice  was  shot 
through  the  cap,  so  that  he  had  a  shave  for  his 
life,  but  he  made  light  of  his  escape,  and  was  very 
proud  of  the  hole  in  the  cap,  which  he  showed  to 


4  GREENJACKETS  '  IN  THE  FIRING  LINE    83 

us  when  he  talked  with  us,  as  he  often  did,  before  he 
fell. 

There  were  so  many  incidents  of  coolness  and  dis- 
regard of  wounds  that  it  is  not  easy  to  recollect  them 
all ;  but  I  call  to  mind  that  our  adjutant,  Lieutenant 
Woods,  was  shot  in  a  little  affair  with  the  Germans. 
A  sergeant  had  taken  a  maxim  gun  to  put  in  position 
at  a  certain  spot ;  but  he  had  gone  the  wrong  way  and 
the  adjutant  went  after  him  to  put  things  right.  He 
was  too  late,  however,  for  the  sergeant  was  spotted  by 
the  Germans  and  was  killed.  The  adjutant  himself 
was  struck,  but  managed  to  get  away,  and  he  came 
back  laughing  and  saying,  "  Oh  !  damn  those  Ger- 
mans !  They've  shot  me  in  the  leg  !  "  But  in  spite 
of  the  wound  he  would  not  lie  up  or  let  anybody  do 
anything  for  him — he  bound  up  the  wound  himself 
and  carried  on. 

I  saw  another  case,  later,  which  illustrates  the  cool- 
ness of  the  British  officer  and  his  determination  not 
to  leave  the  fight  till  he  is  forced  to  do  so.  I  was  by 
that  time  wounded  and  in  a  temporary  hospital,  and 
the  artillery  were  keeping  up  one  of  the  endless  duels. 
The  officer  had  been  struck,  and  he  came  into  the  hos- 
pital, and  I  saw  that  his  hand  had  been  partially  blown 
off;  but  instead  of  caving  in,  as  he  might  well  have 
done,  [he  had  the  hand  bound  up  and  put  it  in  a 
sling,  then  he  went  back  to  his  battery  just  outside 
the  windows  and  kept  on  pounding  away  at  the 
Germans. 

We  had  plenty  of  excitement  with  the  German  aero- 
planes, and  often  potted  at  them,  but  I  did  not  see  any 
of  the  machines  brought  down.  I  remember  one  day 
when  an  aeroplane  was  trying  to  locate  our  position — 
we  were  retiring  through  a  French  village — and  a 


34      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

brigade  started  firing  at  it.  Just  when  the  aeroplane 
appeared,  the  little  boys  and  girls  of  the  village  were 
giving  us  delicious  plums,  which  they  were  getting 
from  the  trees.  We  were  thoroughly  enjoying  our- 
selves, and  the  youngsters  liked  it  too,  when  the  aero- 
plane swooped  along  and  we  instantly  started  firing 
at  it.  So  many  rifles  going  made  a  tremendous  rattle, 
and  the  poor  little  boys  and  girls  were  terrified  and 
ran  off  screaming,  and  scattered  in  all  directions.  We 
shouted  to  them  and  tried  to  bring  them  back,  but 
they  didn't  come,  and  disappeared  in  all  sorts  of 
hiding-places.  The  aeroplane  got  away,  I  believe, 
but  at  any  rate  it  did  no  mischief  at  that  particular 
spot.  The  French  civilian  folk  got  used  to  running 
off  and  hiding.  In  another  village  we  passed  through 
we  came  to  a  large  house  and  found  that  three  young 
ladies  and  their  parents  had  been  forced  into  the  cellar 
and  locked  there  by  the  Germans.  When  we  entered 
the  house,  the  prisoners  were  starving,  and  were  thank- 
ful for  anything  that  we  gave  them ;  but  they  would 
not  take  any  money  from  us.  The  young  ladies  spoke 
English  quite  nicely. 

We  got  quite  used  to  aeroplanes — our  own,  the  Ger- 
mans, and  the  French,  and  saw  several  thrilling  fights 
in  the  aK  Once  we  saw  a  French  aeroplane  furiously 
fired  on  by  the  Germans — a  regular  cannonade  it  was ; 
but  the  shells  and  bullets  never  got  at  it,  and  the  aero- 
plane escaped.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  the  way  the 
machine  shot  down,  as  if  nothing  could  prevent  it 
from  smashing  on  the  ground,  then  to  watch  it  sud- 
denly turn  upward  and  soar  away  as  safely  and 
swiftly  as  a  bird.  The  airman's  idea  seemed  to  be  to 
dodge  the  fire,  and  he  darted  about  in  such  a  bewilder- 
ing fashion  that  no  gunner  or  rifleman  could  hope  to 


4  GREENJACKETS  '  IN  THE  FIRING  LINE    85 

do  anything  with  him.  We  were  all  greatly  excited 
by  this  thrilling  performance  in  the  air,  and  glad  when 
we  knew  that  the  plucky  Frenchman  had  been  swift 
enough  to  dodge  the  shells  and  bullets. 

We  had  had  some  very  trying  work  to  do,  and  now 
we  were  going  to  get  our  reward  for  it.  Some  of  the 
hardest  of  the  work  was  that  about  which  people  hear 
nothing,  and  perhaps  never  even  think — on  sentry  at 
night,  for  instance,  about  the  most  nerve-racking  job 
you  can  imagine.  We  were  always  double  sentry, 
and  stood  for  two  hours  about  five  yards  from  each 
other,  like  statues,  never  moving.  I  always  felt  funky 
at  this  sort  of  work  at  the  start — you  can  imagine  such 
a  lot  in  the  dark  and  the  strain  is  so  heavy.  At  the 
slightest  sound  the  rifle  would  be  presented,  and  the 
word  "  Halt  !  "  ring  out — just  that  word  and  nothing 
more,  and  if  there  wasn't  an  instant  satisfactory  reply 
it  was  a  bad  look-out  for  the  other  party.  The  Ger- 
mans were  very  cunning  at  getting  up  to  some  of  the 
British  outposts  and  sentries,  and  as  so  many  of  them 
speak  English  very  well,  they  were  dangerous  cus- 
tomers to  tackle,  and  this  added  to  the  heavy  strain 
of  sentry  work  at  night. 

Now  I  come  to  the  Battle  of  the  Aisne.  I  had  three 
days  and  nights  of  it  before  I  was  bowled  out. 

A  strange  thing  happened  on  the  first  day  of  the 
battle,  and  that  was  the  appearance  of  a  little  black 
dog.  I  don't  know  where  he  came  from,  or  why  he 
joined  us,  but  he  followed  the  battalion  all  the  rest  of 
the  time  I  was  with  it,  and  not  only  that,  but  he  went 
into  action,  so  he  became  quite  one  of  us. 

Once,  in  the  darkness,  we  walked  into  a  German 
outpost.  We  found  it  pretty  hard  going  just  about 
there,  for  the  German  dead  were  so  thick  that  we  had 


36      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

to  walk  over  them.  That  march  in  the  night  was  a 
wonderful  and  solemn  thing.  Three  columns  of  us 
were  going  in  different  directions,  yet  moving  so  quietly 
that  you  could  scarcely  hear  a  sound.  All  around  us, 
in  that  Valley  of  the  Aisne,  were  burning  buildings 
and  haystacks,  making  a  terrible  illumination,  and 
showing  too  well  what  war  means  when  it  is  carried 
on  by  a  nation  like  the  Germans,  for  this  burning  and 
destroying  was  their  doing. 

Silently,  without  any  talking,  we  went  on,  and  then 
we  fell  into  the  outpost.  I  heard  the  stillness  of  the 
night  broken  by  the  sharp  sound  of  voices,  a  sound 
which  was  instantly  followed  by  shots,  and  the  furious 
barking  of  our  little  dog,  which  up  to  that  point  had 
been  perfectly  quiet.  The  shots  were  fired  by  Captain 
Woollen,  who  killed  two  of  the  Germans,  and  one  of 
our  men  shot  a  third.  We  left  them  where  they  fell 
and  retired  as  quickly  as  we  could ;  but  we  had  done 
what  we  started  out  to  do,  and  that  was  to  find  the 
position  of  the  enemy. 

While  advancing  again  we  caught  a  column  of 
Germans.  Our  brigade -major  saw  them  and  came 
tearing  back  and  told  us  that  they  were  about  four- 
teen hundred  yards  to  the  left  of  us.  Within  ten 
minutes  we  had  a  firing  line  made  and  our  artillery 
was  in  position  as  well.  It  was  a  grand  sight  to  see 
our  fellows  running  into  the  firing  line  smoking 
cigarettes,  as  cool  as  if  they  were  doing  a  bit  of 
skirmishing  on  training. 

We  gave  the  Germans  about  three  hours'  hot  firing, 
then  a  company  went  round  to  take  the  prisoners. 
The  white  flag  had  been  shown,  but  we  had  not  been 
allowed  to  take  any  notice  of  that  until  we  were  sure 
of  our  men,  because  the  Germans  had  so  often  made  a 


6  GREENJACKETS  '  IN  THE  FILING  LINE     87 

wrong  use  of  the  signal  of  surrender.  When  the  com- 
pany got  round  to  the  Germans  it  was  found  that  they 
had  already  thrown  down  their  rifles.  Our  brigade 
took  about  500  prisoners,  and  the  rest  we  handed  over 
to  the  1st  Division.  The  Germans  had  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  of  convoy,  which  got  away ;  but  the  French 
captured  it  in  the  evening,  and  so  made  a  very  nice 
little  complete  victory  of  the  affair. 

At  that  time,  early  in  the  war,  the  Germans  thought 
they  were  going  to  have  it  all  their  own  way,  and  they 
considered  that  any  trick,  white  flag  or  otherwise,  was 
good  enough.  So  certain  were  they  about  victory 
that  in  one  village  we  passed  through  we  saw  written 
on  a  wall,  in  English,  evidently  by  a  German,  "  We 
will  do  the  tango  in  Paris  on  the  13th."  We  laughed 
a  good  deal  when  we  read  that  boast,  and  well  we 
might,  for  it  was  on  the  13th  that  we  saw  the  writing 
on  the  wall,  and  the  Germans  by  that  time  were 
getting  driven  a  long  way  back  from  the  French 
capital. 

On  the  Monday  morning  we  went  out  as  flank  guard 
on  the  Aisne,  and  were  going  along  behind  some  hills 
when  our  captain  spotted  swarms  of  Germans  coming 
up  over  a  ridge  about  twelve  hundred  yards  away. 
He  ordered  two  platoons  to  go  out  and  line  the  ridge, 
and  for  the  ridge  we  went.  When  we  reached  it,  our 
captain  told  us  that  not  a  man  was  to  show  his  head 
over  the  ridge  until  he  gave  the  word  to  fire. 

The  Germans  came  on,  getting  nearer  and  nearer, 
in  dense  masses,  and  it  was  the  hardest  thing  in  the 
world  not  to  let  fly  at  them.  They  advanced  till  they 
were  about  seven  hundred  yards  away,  then  we  showed 
them  what  British  rifles  could  do.  We  simply  went 
for  them,  and  our  rifles  got  so  hot  that  we  could 


38      SOLDIERS'   STORIES  OF  THE  WAR 

scarcely  hold  them.  Despite  that  awful  hail  of  bullets 
the  Germans  came  on,  and  hurled  themselves  against 
us  till  they  were  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  away ; 
then  we  wanted  to  charge  them,  and  begged  to  be  let 
loose  with  the  bayonet,  but  our  captain  told  us  that 
there  were  not  enough  of  us  to  do  it.  So  we  retired 
to  our  own  battalion,  the  whole  of  which  had  the 
joy  of  going  for  them.  But  the  Germans  didn't  wait 
for  us.  They  don't  like  the  British  steel,  and  when  we 
had  pushed  them  right  back,  without  actually  getting 
at  them,  they  cleared  off. 

This  was  the  kind  of  thing  that  went  on  in  the 
Valley  of  the  Aisne.  It  was  work  in  the  open  and 
work  in  the  trenches,  on  top  of  the  incessant  fight- 
ing we  had  had.  On  the  third  day,  at  night,  we  had 
just  come  out  of  the  trenches,  having  been  relieved  by 
another  company.  We  were  in  good  spirits,  for  we  had 
been  sent  to  a  barn,  where  we  were  to  spend  the  night. 
That  was  a  splendid  bit  of  luck,  because  it  meant  that 
we  were  to  get  a  nice  rest  and  have  a  good  time.  The 
barn  had  hay  in  it,  and  we  simply  packed  the  place. 
It  was  on  a  farm,  and  during  the  day  we  had  seen  the 
farmer  and  his  wife.  There  was  a  village  near,  with 
a  church  and  houses,  and  it  had  proved  a  fine  target 
for  the  Germans,  who  constantly  shelled  the  place. 
We  had  got  quite  into  the  way  of  watching  the  shells 
burst  about  fifty  yards  in  front  of  us,  and  it  really  was 
a  grand  sight  to  sit  and  gaze  at  them.  We  sometimes 
did  this  when  we  were  so  heavily  bombarded  that  we 
could  do  nothing  with  the  rifle  or  bayonet.  Little  did 
we  know  what  was  in  store  for  us  at  the  barn  from 
shells. 

The  night  passed  and  the  morning  came.  We 
breakfasted  and  made  ready  to  march;  but  were 


4  GREENJACKETS  '  IN  THE  FIRING  LINE     39 

ordered  to  hold  back  a  bit,  and  so  we  put  aside  our 
packs  and  rifles  and  had  a  sing-song  to  pass  the  time. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  surprising  concerts  ever  held, 
I  daresay,  because  all  the  time  about  three  German 
batteries  were  shelling  us,  and  occasionally  a  shell 
burst  very  near  us  and  made  an  awful  commotion. 
We  were  still  packed  in  the  barn,  quite  cheerful,  when 
the  sergeant  who  was  in  charge  of  us,  and  was  acting 
as  sergeant-major,  told  us  to  fall  in. 

He  had  hardly  spoken  the  words  when  the  very 
building  seemed  to  collapse,  the  wall  was  blown  in, 
the  roof  fell,  timbers  crashed  down  and  the  barn  was 
filled  with  a  horrible  smoke  and  dust,  and  there  were 
deafening  and  awful  cries  —  screams  and  groans 
where  a  few  moments  earlier  there  had  been  the  sound 
of  merriment,  for  a  German  shell  had  crashed  through 
the  wall  and  exploded  in  the  very  thick  of  us. 

I  was  lying  down  in  the  barn,  with  my  pack  on, 
when  this  thing  happened.  I  sprang  to  my  feet  and 
dashed  to  the  door  and  rushed  into  the  open  air,  but 
as  soon  as  I  had  left  the  building  a  second  shell  came 
and  burst  and  I  was  knocked  down.  I  tried  to  rise, 
but  my  leg  was  numb,  and  so  I  had  to  wait  till  the 
stretcher-bearers  came  and  took  me  to  a  big  white 
house  about  three  hundred  yards  away,  which  had 
been  turned  into  a  hospital,  and  there  I  was  put  with 
the  rest  of  the  wounded.  For  about  ten  minutes  I  had 
to  wait  outside,  and  there  I  was  struck  by  a  piece  of 
spent  shell,  but  not  much  hurt.  When  we  were 
carried  off  in  the  stretchers  we  were  kept  near  the  bank 
of  the  road,  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  the  German 
fire. 

At  the  hospital  it  was  found  that  I  had  been 
wounded  in  the  leg ;  but  I  did  not  care  so  much  about 


40      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF   THE   WAR 

myself,  I  wanted  to  know  what  had  happened  in  the 
barn.  I  soon  learned  the  dreadful  truth — the  shells 
had  killed  eleven  of  the  men  and  wounded  thirty-two, 
some  of  whom  died  afterwards. 

Prince  Maurice  was  close  at  hand  when  this  hap- 
pened, and  at  night  he  attended  the  burial  of  the  poor 
fellows  near  the  barn.  About  an  hour  after  the  men 
were  killed  he  came  into  the  house  to  see  us.  "  How 
are  you  getting  on ?  "  he  asked  me.  "I  am  so  sorry 
such  a  dreadful  thing  has  happened."  And  he  looked 
it,  too. 

I  was  in  the  hospital  three  days  before  being  sent 
home.  All  that  time  there  were  villagers  in  the 
cellars  of  the  hospital,  terrified  people  who  were  hiding 
from  the  German  fire,  and  were  fed  from  our  transport. 

A  lot  was  crowded  into  that  retirement  from  Mons 
and  the  advance  to  the  Aisne.  We  had  kept  our 
spirits  up  and  had  not  been  downhearted,  and  when 
the  great  day  came  which  brought  the  order  to  ad- 
vance and  fight  the  enemy,  we  positively  shouted  and 
sang.  And  this  was  not  just  swank;  it  was  a  real 
expression  of  our  feelings,  for  we  wanted  to  do  our  bit 
for  the  Empire. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    STRUGGLE    ON   THE    AISNE 

[The  Battle  of  the  Aisne  began  on  Sunday,  September  13th, 
1914,  when  the  Allies  crossed  the  river.  The  Germans  made 
furious  efforts  to  hack  their  way  through  to  Paris,  but  after 
a  struggle  lasting  three  weeks  they  were  driven  back  with 
enormous  losses.  The  British  losses  were  :  561  officers  and 
12,980  men  in  killed,  wounded  and  missing.  The  beginning 
of  this  tremendous  conflict  is  told  by  Private  Herbert  Page, 
of  the  Coldstream  Guards,  who  was  wounded  and  had  a  wonder- 
ful escape  from  instant  death  on  the  battlefield.] 

THERE  was  fierce  fighting  all  day  on  Sunday,  Sept- 
ember 13th,  when  the  Battle  of  the  Aisne  began ;  but 
the  Coldstreamers  were  not  in  it  till  the  Monday.  We 
had  had  a  lot  of  heavy  fighting,  though,  since  the 
beginning  of  the  business  at  Mons,  and  we  had  had 
a  fine  fight  at  Landrecies — a  fight  which  has  been 
specially  mentioned  in  despatches.  At  the  end  of  it 
all  the  men  in  my  company — Number  2 — had  their 
names  taken,  but  I  don't  know  why.  Anyway,  it 
was  a  grand  affair,  and  no  doubt  some  day  the  real 
full  story  of  it  will  be  told  and  everybody  will  know 
what  the  Coldstreamers  did  there.  Landrecies  is 
particularly  an  affair  of  the  3rd  Coldstreamers. 

We  had  had  a  very  hard  time,  fighting  and  marching 
and  sleeping  in  the  open  during  the  cold  nights  and 
in  thick  mud  or  in  trenches  that  were  deep  in  water; 
but  with  it  all  we  kept  very  cheerful,  especially  when 

41 


42      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

we  knew  that  we  had  brought  the  Germans  up  with 
a  jerk  and  were  beginning  to  roll  them  back. 

The  Coldstreamers  were  in  the  open  all  day  on  the 
Sunday,  right  on  the  side  of  the  artillery,  behind  a 
big  hill,  and  were  very  comfortable.  The  artillery 
on  both  sides  were  hard  at  it,  but  the  Germans  could 
not  get  our  range  and  no  shells  came  near  us.  It  was 
harvest  time,  and  we  were  lying  down  on  sheaves  of 
wheat,  and  making  ourselves  as  cosy  as  we  could. 
That  was  not  altogether  easy  to  do,  because  it  was 
raining  during  the  best  part  of  the  day  and  every- 
thing was  rather  depressing  and  very  wet.  But  we 
put  our  oilsheets  on  the  ground,  our  greatcoats  over 
the  oilsheets,  and  straw  on  the  top  of  ourselves,  so 
that  we  were  really  pretty  snug,  taken  altogether. 
The  straw,  I  fancy,  was  put  there  not  so  much  to  give 
us  comfort  as  to  hide  us  from  the  view  of  the  chaps 
who  were  always  flying  about  in  the  German  aero- 
planes, trying  to  spot  us  and  make  our  positions 
known  to  their  own  gunners. 

Our  own  aeroplanes  and  the  Germans'  were  very 
busy  during  that  Sunday,  and  shells  were  flying  about 
them  on  both  sides,  but  I  don't  think  they  were  doing 
much  mischief.  We  ourselves  were  doing  very  nicely 
indeed.  Our  transport  came  up  and  issued  new 
biscuits,  and  we  got  a  pot  of  jam  each — and  delicious 
they  were,  too.  We  enjoyed  them  immensely,  and 
didn't  care  a  rap  about  the  German  shells.  Our 
transport  was  splendid,  and  we  always  had  something 
to  go  on  with.  There  was  no  fixed  time  for  any  meal, 
there  couldn't  be,  for  we  used  to  march  about  fifty 
minutes  and  take  ten  minutes'  halt.  If  we  were  on 
a  long  day's  march  we  would  get  an  hour  or  two  at 
dinner-time,  usually  from  one  o'clock.  It  was  a 


THE   STRUGGLE   ON  THE   AISNE        43 

funny  country  we  were  in,  hot  in  the  daytime  and 
cold  at  night;  but  we  soon  got  used  to  that.  We 
were  helped  enormously  by  the  kindness  of  the  French, 
and  we  got  on  very  well  with  the  people  and  had  not 
much  difficulty  in  making  ourselves  understood, 
especially  as  we  picked  up  a  few  words  of  the  language 
— and  we  could  always  make  signs.  When  we 
wanted  a  drink  we  would  hold  out  our  water-bottles 
and  say  "  loo,"  and  they  laughed  and  rushed  off  and 
filled  our  bottles  with  water. 

On  the  way  to  the  Valley  of  the  Aisne  we  passed 
through  towns  and  villages  where  the  Germans  had 
been  and  we  saw  what  outrages  they  had  committed 
on  both  people  and  property.  They  had  recklessly 
destroyed  everything.  They  had  thrown  poor  people's 
property  out  of  the  windows  into  the  streets  and 
pulled  their  bedding  into  the  roads  to  lie  on  them- 
selves. The  Germans  acted  like  barbarians  wherever 
they  went — I  saw  one  poor  child  who  was  riddled 
with  bullets.  We  ourselves  had  strict  orders  against 
looting  of  any  sort,  but  we  did  not  dream  of  touching 
other  people's  property.  Whenever  we  came  to  a 
town  or  village  we  warned  the  people  to  get  away,  as 
the  Germans  were  coming,  and  they  went.  It  was 
always  pleasant  to  hear  them  say — as  they  did  to  our 
officers,  who  spoke  to  them  in  French — that  they  felt 
safe  when  the  English  were  there. 

The  river  Aisne  runs  through  lovely  country, 
which  looks  a  bit  of  a  wreck  now,  because  we  had 
to  rush  across  the  open  and  trample  down  the  wheat 
to  get  at  the  Germans.  The  country's  crops  were 
spoiled,  but  the  damage  we  did  was  trifling  compared 
with  the  devastation  that  the  Germans  caused. 

Throughout  that  Sunday  when  the  Battle  of  the 


44       SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Aisne  opened  we  had  no  casualties,  and  the  day  passed 
pretty  well.  At  night  we  slept  in  a  barn,  which  was 
better  than  the  wet  fields.  There  were  no  rats,  but 
plenty  of  rabbits,  for  the  people  of  the  farm  seemed 
to  breed  them  and  to  have  left  the  hutches  open. 
That  night  in  the  barn  gave  me  the  best  rest  I  had  had 
since  Mons,  as  I  was  not  even  on  guard.  We  had  a 
good  breakfast  in  the  barn,  tea,  bully  beef  and  biscuits, 
and  marched  off  soon  after  six  in  the  morning,  which 
was  very  wet  and  cold.  We  marched  about  four 
miles,  until  we  came  to  the  Aisne,  to  a  bridge  that  had 
been  blown  up  and  so  shattered  that  there  was  only 
a  broken  girder  left.  The  rest  of  the  bridge  was  in  the 
river,  which  was  very  deep  in  the  middle,  after  the 
heavy  rains. 

We  were  now  properly  in  the  thick  of  the  battle  and 
a  fierce  business  it  was,  because  the  Germans  had  the 
range  of  us  and  were  dropping  shells  as  fast  as  they 
could  fire.  Some  of  the  Guards  were  got  across  by 
boats,  but  we  had  to  wait  our  turn  to  cross  over  a 
pontoon  bridge  which  the  Engineers  had  put  up,  in 
spite  of  the  heavy  fire. 

We  felt  the  German  artillery  fire  at  this  place,  near 
the  village  of  Vendresse,  but  we  could  not  see  them. 
We  watched  the  Loyal  North  Lancashires  cross  the 
pontoon  bridge  and  saw  them  march  away  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  which  was  well  wooded,  then 
we  heard  them  firing  hard  and  knew  that  they  were 
in  action  with  the  Germans.  We  were  not  long  in 
following  the  North  Lancashires  and  over  the  pontoon 
bridge  we  went,  going  very  quietly,  as  we  had  been 
told  to  make  as  little  noise  as  possible.  In  about  an 
hour  we  were  properly  in  the  business  ourselves. 

After  crossing  the  river  we  began  to  feel  that  at  last 


THE   STRUGGLE   ON  THE   AISNE        45 

we  were  really  at  the  Germans.  We  made  the  best  of 
the  shelter  that  the  wood  gave  us,  and  from  behind  trees 
and  from  the  sodden  ground  we  kept  up  a  destructive 
fire  on  the  enemy,  getting  nearer  to  him  all  the  time. 
Things  were  growing  very  hot  and  the  whole  country- 
side rang  with  the  crashing  of  the  guns  and  the  ever- 
lasting rattle  of  the  rifles  and  machine-guns.  We 
were  expecting  more  of  our  men  to  cross  the  river  and 
reinforce  us,  but  the  German  guns  had  got  the  range 
of  the  pontoons  and  no  more  of  our  men  could  cross, 
so  that  for  the  time  being  we  were  cut  off  and  had  to 
do  as  best  we  could  with  one  of  the  very  strong  rear- 
guards of  the  enemy. 

When  we  had  put  some  good  firing  in  from  the 
wood  we  left  the  shelter  of  the  trees  and  got  into  the 
open  country,  and  then  we  were  met  by  a  shell  fire 
which  did  a  great  deal  of  mischief  amongst  us.  These 
shells  were  the  big  chaps  that  we  called  Jack  Johnsons, 
and  one  came  and  struck  an  officer  of  the  North 
Lancashires  who  was  standing  on  the  right  of  his  line. 
I  was  not  far  from  him,  being  on  the  left  of  our  own 
line.  The  shell  shattered  both  his  legs  and  he  fell  to 
the  ground.  I  hurried  up,  and  the  first  thing  the 
officer  asked  for  was  a  smoke.  We  propped  him  up 
against  a  haycock  and  a  chap  who  had  some  French 
tobacco  made  a  fag  and  gave  it  to  the  officer — nobody 
had  a  cigarette  ready  made.  He  smoked  half  of  it 
and  died.  By  that  time  the  stretcher-bearers  had 
come  up  and  were  taking  him  away.  Before  he  left 
for  the  rear  I  gently  pulled  his  cap  over  his  face. 
This  affair  filled  the  men  around  with  grief,  but  it  put 
more  heart  into  us  to  go  on  fighting  the  Germans. 

Our  artillery  now  began  to  fire  rapidly  and  the 
Germans  started  to  retire.  There  was  a  big  bunch 


46      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

of  them,  and  they  made  for  the  hill  as  fast  as  they 
could  go,  meaning  to  scuttle  down  the  other  side  and 
get  away.  But  our  gunners  were  too  sharp  for  them, 
and  they  were  properly  roused  up  by  that  time. 
They  came  up  in  splendid  style — the  117th  Field 
Battery,  I  think  they  were — and  just  as  the  Germans 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill  in  a  solid  body  our  gunners 
dropped  three  shells  straight  into  them,  and  three 
parts  of  the  flying  Germans  stopped  on  the  top  of  the 
hill— dead. 

I  could  not  say  how  many  Germans  there  were 
against  us  at  this  place,  but  I  know  that  they  came  on 
in  swarms,  and  they  went  down  as  fast  as  we  could 
fire.  But  their  going  down  seemed  to  make  no 
difference  to  their  numbers.  They  were  only  a  few 
hundred  yards  away,  and  we  could  see  them  quite 
plainly.  They  were  running  all  over  the  place,  like  a 
lot  of  mad  sheep,  they  were  so  excited.  And  they 
were  blowing  trumpets,  like  our  cavalry  trumpets, 
and  beating  drums  and  shouting  "  Hoch  !  Hoch  !  " 
as  hard  as  they  could  shout. 

They  kept  blowing  their  charge  and  banging  their 
drums  till  they  were  about  300  yards  away,  and 
shouting  their  "  Hochs  !  "  They  shouted  other  words 
as  well,  but  I  don't  know  what  they  were. 

When  our  chaps  heard  the  trumpets  and  drums 
going  and  the  German  cheers  they  answered  with  a 
good  old  British  "  Hooray  !  "  and  a  lot  of  them  laughed 
and  shouted,  "  Here  comes  the  Kaiser's  rag-time 
band  !  We'll  give  you  4  Hoch  !  '  when  you  get  a  bit 
nearer  !  "  And  I  think  we  did.  At  any  rate  we  kept 
on  firing  at  them  all  the  time  they  were  advancing; 
but  they  swept  ahead  in  such  big  numbers  that  we 
were  forced  to  retire  into  the  wood. 


THE   STRUGGLE   ON  THE  AISNE        47 

As  soon  as  we  got  into  the  wood  we  came  under 
very  heavy  machine-gun  fire  from  the  Germans,  and 
the  bullets  rained  about  us,  driving  into  the  earth  and 
into  the  trees  and  whizzing  all  around  us  everywhere. 
The  German  shells  were  smashing  after  us,  too,  but 
were  not  doing  much  damage  at  that  point. 

It  was  now  that  I  lost  a  very  old  chum  of  mine,  a 
fine  chap  from  Newcastle  named  Layden,  a  private. 
He  was  in  the  thick  of  the  machine-gun  fire,  a  few 
paces  from  me,  when  he  suddenly  cried  out  and  I  knew 
that  he  was  hit.  The  first  thing  he  said  was,  "  Give 
me  a  cigarette.  I  know  I  shan't  go  on  much  longer." 
When  we  asked  him  what  the  matter  was  he  said 
he  was  hurt.  "  Are  you  wounded?  "  he  was  asked. 
4  Yes,  I'm  hit  in  the  stomach,"  he  answered — and  he 
was,  by  about  seventeen  bullets. 

The  call  went  round  for  a  cigarette,  but  nobody 
had  one — lots  of  cigarettes  were  sent  out  to  the 
soldiers  that  never  reached  them — but  poor  Layden 
was  soon  beyond  the  need  of  fags.  He  was  delirious 
when  our  stretcher-bearers  came  and  took  him  to  a 
barn  which  had  been  turned  into  a  temporary  hospital. 
He  lingered  there  for  some  time ;  but  the  last  I  saw  of 
him  was  on  the  field.  I  missed  him  badly,  because 
we  had  been  good  chums,  and  whatever  we  got  we 
used  to  give  each  other  half  of  it. 

For  about  five  hours,  until  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, that  part  of  the  battle  went  on,  and  all  the  time 
we  were  holding  the  Germans  back;  then  we  were 
reinforced  by  the  remainder  of  our  troops,  who  came 
across  the  pontoon  bridge  to  our  assistance. 

The  Germans  now  seemed  to  think  that  they  had 
had  enough  of  it  and  they  held  up  white  flags,  and  we 
left  the  shelter  of  the  wood  and  went  out  to  capture 


48      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

them.  I  should  think  that  there  were  about  three 
hundred  of  the  Germans  at  that  point  who  pretended 
to  surrender  by  holding  up  the  white  flag ;  but  as  soon 
as  we  were  up  with  them  their  people  behind  fired 
at  us — a  treacherous  trick  they  practised  very  often. 
In  spite  of  it  all  we  managed  to  get  the  best  part  of 
the  prisoners  safe  and  drove  them  in  before  us  to  our 
own  lines.  When  they  really  surrendered,  and  did 
not  play  the  white  flag  game,  we  used  to  go  up  and 
take  all  their  rifles,  bayonets  and  ammunition,  and 
throw  them  away  out  of  their  reach,  so  that  they  could 
not  make  a  sudden  dash  for  them  and  turn  on  us. 
When  we  had  chased  a  few  prisoners  and  had  seen 
what  the  Germans  meant  by  the  white  flag  signal,  we 
were  told  to  take  no  notice  of  it,  but  to  keep  on  shoot- 
ing till  they  put  their  hands  up. 

A  lot  of  the  prisoners  spoke  English  and  said  how 
glad  they  were  to  be  captured  and  have  no  more 
fighting  to  do.  Some  said  they  loved  England  too 
much  to  want  to  fight  against  us,  and  a  German  said, 
"  Long  live  King  George,  and  blow  the  Kaiser !  " 
But  I  don't  know  how  many  of  them  meant  what 
they  said — you  can't  depend  on  Germans. 

We  had  plenty  of  talks  with  the  German  prisoners 
who  could  speak  English.  Some  of  them  who  had 
lived  in  England  spoke  our  language  quite  well,  and 
it  was  very  interesting  to  hear  what  they  had  to  say 
about  us  and  the  French  and  the  Belgians.  They 
couldn't  stand  the  British  cavalry,  and  one  man  said, 
"  We  don't  like  those  Englishmen  on  the  grey  horses 
at  all,"  meaning  the  Scots  Greys.  Several  of  the 
prisoners  said  they  didn't  mind  so  much  fighting  the 
French,  because  the  French  infantry  fired  too  high, 
nor  the  Russians,  because  they  fired  too  low ;  "  but," 


THE   STRUGGLE   ON  THE  AISNE        49 

they  said,  "  every  time  the  Englishman  pulls  the 
trigger  he  means  death."  That  was  a  very  nice 
compliment  to  us,  and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  truth 
in  what  was  said  about  the  British  rifle  fire.  I  can 
assure  you  that  when  we  settled  down  to  the  work  we 
often  enough  plugged  into  the  Germans  just  as  if  we 
were  on  manreuvres. 

At  the  very  first — and  I'm  not  ashamed  to  say  it — 
I  shook  like  a  leaf  and  fired  anyhow  and  pretty  well 
anywhere ;  but  when  that  first  awful  nervousness  had 
passed — not  to  return — we  went  at  it  ding-dong  all 
the  time  and  fired  as  steadily  as  if  we  were  on  the 
ranges.  The  men  were  amazingly  cool  at  the  business 
— and  as  for  the  officers,  well,  they  didn't  seem  to  care 
a  rap  for  bullets  or  shells  or  anything  else,  and  walked 
about  and  gave  orders  as  if  there  were  no  such  things 
in  the  world  as  German  soldiers. 

Most  of  the  poor  beggars  we  took  were  ravenous 
for  want  of  food,  and  those  who  could  speak  English 
said  they  had  been  practically  without  food  for  days, 
and  we  saw  that  they  had  had  to  make  shift  with  the 
oats  that  the  horses  were  fed  with.  This  starvation 
arose  from  the  fact  that  a  few  days  earlier  we  had 
captured  the  German  transport  and  left  them  pretty 
short  of  food. 

That  rush  after  the  Germans  and  bagging  them  was 
exciting  work.  It  was  successful  and  everything 
seemed  to  be  going  very  well.  But  there  was  a  nasty 
surprise  in  store  for  me  and  one  which  very  nearly 
ended  my  career  as  a  fighting  man.  I  had  really  a 
miraculous  escape. 

I  had  charge  of  about  four  prisoners,  and  kept  them 
well  in  front  of  me,  so  that  they  could  not  rush  me. 
I  kept  them  covered  with  my  rifle  all  the  time,  and 


50      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE  WAR 

as  I  had  ten  rounds  in  my  magazine  I  knew  that  they 
wouldn't  have  a  ghost  of  a  chance  if  they  tried  any 
German  tricks  on  me — I  could  easily  have  finished 
the  lot  before  they  could  have  got  at  me. 

As  I  was  driving  the  prisoners  I  felt  as  if  some  one  had 
come  up  and  punched  me  on  the  ear.  I  did  not  know 
whether  I  had  been  actually  hit  by  somebody  or  shot, 
but  I  turned  my  head  and  at  once  fell  to  the  ground. 
I  was  swiftly  up  again  on  my  feet  and  scrambled 
about.  I  knew  that  I  was  hurt,  but  the  thing  I 
mostly  cared  about  just  then  was  my  bag  of  prisoners, 
so  I  handed  them  over  to  another  man,  and  he  took 
them  in.  I  then  found  that  I  had  been  shot  in  the 
neck  by  a  bullet.  It  had  gone  in  at  the  collar  of  the 
jacket,  at  the  back  of  the  neck — here's  the  hole  it 
made — and  through  the  neck  and  out  here,  where  the 
scar  is,  just  under  the  jaw.  A  narrow  shave  ?  Yes, 
that's  what  the  doctor  said — it  had  just  missed  the 
jugular  vein.  The  shot  bowled  me  out,  but  it  was  a 
poor  performance  by  the  German  who  fired,  because 
he  could  not  have  been  more  than  three  hundred  yards 
away,  and  being  six  foot  one  I  made  a  big  target  at 
that  short  distance.  Anyway,  he  missed  me  and  I 
was  told  to  go  to  a  barn  not  far  away  which  had  been 
turned  into  a  hospital,  bed  mattresses  having  been 
placed  on  the  floor.  Here  my  kit  was  taken  off  me 
and  I  was  looked  after  at  once,  my  kit  being  given  to 
a  North  Lancashire  man  who  had  lost  his  own  and 
had  been  without  one  for  three  days.  He  had  been 
in  a  small  battle  and  had  had  to  take  his  choice  be- 
tween dropping  his  kit  and  being  caught;  so  he  got 
rid  of  his  kit  and  was  able  to  escape.  When  he  left 
the  barn  he  went  into  the  firing  line,  but  he  only 
lasted  about  ten  minutes  there.  I  had  seen  him  leave 


[To  face  p.  50. 

"  FROM    BEHIND    TREES   WE    KEPT   UP    A   DESTRUCTIVE    FIRE    ON 
THE    ENEMY  "  (p.  45). 


THE   STRUGGLE   ON  THE  AISNE        51 

and  I  saw  him  brought  back  by  the  stretcher-bearers. 
As  soon  as  he  was  inside  the  barn  he  asked  where  I 
was,  and  he  was  told  and  was  laid  down  close  to  me. 
"  Look  here,  old  chap,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "  if  you'd 
only  been  ten  minutes  later  I  shouldn't  have  been 
here,  because  I  shouldn't  have  got  your  kit  and  gone 
into  the  firing  line  and  got  hit." 

Perhaps  he  was  right.  He  might  have  escaped; 
but  as  it  was  he  had  been  shot  through  both  legs. 

I  didn't  like  being  in  the  barn  and  out  of  the  fighting. 
It  was  better  to  be  in  the  firing  line,  with  all  its  ex- 
citement and  the  knowledge  that  you  were  doing  your 
bit  to  help  things  along  and  drive  the  Germans  back 
to  the  best  place  for  them,  and  that's  Germany ;  but 
our  officers,  who  never  lost  a  chance  of  cheering  and 
helping  us,  came  in  when  they  could  to  see  how  we 
were  getting  on.  During  the  afternoon  my  company 
officer,  Captain  Brocklehurst,  and  the  adjutant,  came 
in  to  see  how  things  were  going.  Captain  Brockle- 
hurst saw  me  and  said,  "  There  are  not  many  of  the 
company  left;  but  we're  doing  wonderfully  well. 
We've  killed  a  good  many  of  the  Germans  and  taken 
about  five  hundred  prisoners."  That  was  good  news, 
very  good,  but  it  was  even  better  when  the  captain 
added,  "  And  we're  pushing  them  back  all  the 
time." 

The  guns  were  booming  and  the  rifles  were  crackling 
all  around  us  while  we  were  lying  in  the  barn,  and 
wounded  men  were  being  constantly  brought  in, 
keeping  the  doctors  and  the  ambulance  men  terribly 
busy — and  you  can  imagine  what  it  must  have  meant 
for  the  Germans  if  it  was  like  that  for  us ;  because 
we  fought  in  open  order,  so  that  we  were  not  easy  to 
hit,  whereas  the  Germans  were  in  their  solid  formation, 


52      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

which  meant  that  they  could  not  advance  against  the 
British  fire  without  being  mown  down. 

I  was  in  the  barn,  which  was  crowded  with  wounded, 
till  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  then  we  were 
taken  in  Red  Cross  vans  to  another  hospital  about 
three  miles  away,  and  as  we  left  the  French  people 
showed  us  all  the  kindness  they  could,  giving  us  water, 
milk  and  food,  in  fact  all  they  had.  We  crossed  the 
pontoon  bridge  and  were  put  into  another  barn  which 
had  been  turned  into  a  hospital,  and  we  stayed  there 
for  the  night.  We  left  that  place  in  the  morning  for 
La  Fere,  about  twenty  miles  away.  There  were  a 
great  many  motor  waggons  being  used  as  ambulances, 
and  they  were  all  needed,  because  of  the  crowds  of 
wounded.  All  of  us  who  could  walk  had  to  do  so,  as 
all  the  vans  and  lorries  were  wanted  for  the  bad  cases. 
I  could  manage  to  walk  for  about  a  mile  at  a  stretch, 
but  I  could  not  use  my  arms.  When  I  had  done  a 
mile,  I  rested,  then  went  on  again,  and  so  I  got  to  the 
end  of  the  journey,  with  a  lot  more  who  were  just 
about  able  to  do  the  same.  We  didn't  grumble, 
because  we  were  thankful  to  be  able  to  walk  at  all  and 
not  to  be  so  badly  wounded  that  we  could  not  shift 
for  ourselves.  When  we  got  to  La  Fere  the  hospital 
was  so  full  that  we  were  put  straight  into  a  hospital 
train,  and  I  was  in  it  for  two  days  and  nights,  stopping 
at  stations  for  brief  halts.  Again  the  French  people 
were  kindness  itself  and  pressed  food  and  drink  on 
us.  We  got  to  Nantes,  where  my  wound  was  dressed 
and  we  had  supper,  and  then  I  had  what  seemed  like 
a  taste  of  heaven,  for  I  was  put  into  a  proper  bed. 
Yes,  after  sleeping  for  so  many  nights  on  the  ground, 
anyhow  and  anywhere,  often  enough  in  mud  and 
water,  it  was  like  getting  into  heaven  itself  to  get  into 


THE   STRUGGLE   ON  THE  AISNE        53 

a  bed.  On  the  Saturday  they  put  us  on  board  a  ship 
and  took  us  round  to  Liverpool,  a  four  days'  journey 
on  the  sea.  First  we  went  to  Fazackerley,  and  then 
I  was  lucky  enough  to  be  sent  on  to  Knowsley  Hall, 
where  Lady  Derby,  who  has  a  son  in  France  with  the 
Grenadiers,  had  turned  the  state  dining-room  into 
a  hospital  ward.  There  were  sixteen  Guardsmen  in 
the  ward,  with  four  trained  nurses  to  look  after  us. 
Wasn't  that  a  contrast  to  the  barns  and  flooded 
trenches  !  Now  I'm  back  in  London,  feeling  almost 
fit  again,  and  soon  I  shall  have  to  report  myself. 

I  have  only  told  you  about  the  little  bit  I  saw  myself 
of  the  tremendous  Battle  of  the  Aisne.  Considering  the 
length  of  it  and  the  fearful  nature  of  the  firing,  it 
sometimes  strikes  me  as  a  very  strange  thing  that  I 
should  be  alive  at  all;  but  stranger  still  that  some 
men  went  through  it  all,  right  away  from  the  beginning 
at  Mons,  and  escaped  without  a  scratch. 


CHAPTER 


[In  the  first  four  months  of  the  war  nineteen  Victoria  Crosses 
were  gazetted  for  valour  in  the  field,  and  of  these  no  fewer  than 
five  were  awarded  for  the  sanguinary  fighting  at  Le  Gateau  on 
August  26th,  1914.  In  his  despatch  dealing  with  the  retreat  from 
Mons  Sir  John  French  described  the  26th  as  "  the  most  critical 
day  of  all."  It  was  during  this  crisis  of  the  battle  that  Corporal 
Frederick  William  Holmes,  of  the  2nd  Battalion  The  King's 
Own  (Yorkshire  Light  Infantry),  "  carried  a  wounded  man  out 
of  the  trenches  under  heavy  fire  and  later  assisted  to  drive  a 
gun  out  of  action  by  taking  the  place  of  a  driver  who  had  been 
wounded."  Corporal  Holmes  has  not  only  won  the  Victoria 
Cross,  but  he  has  been  also  awarded  the  Medaille  Militaire  of 
the  Legion  of  Honour  of  France.  His  story  gives  further  proof 
of  the  wondrous  courage  and  endurance  of  the  gallant  British 
Army  in  Belgium  and  in  France.] 

FOR  seven  years  I  was  with  the  colours  in  the  old 
51st,  which  is  now  the  Yorkshire  Light  Infantry,  then 
I  was  drafted  to  the  Reserve ;  but  I  was  called  back 
only  a  fortnight  later,  when  the  war  broke  out. 

The  regimental  depot  is  at  Pontefract,  in  South 
Yorkshire,  which  some  unkind  people  say  is  the  last 
place  that  God  started  and  never  finished,  and  in 
August,  having  become  a  soldier  again,  after  marry- 
ing and  settling  down  to  civil  life  in  Dublin,  I  found 
myself  in  a  region  which  was  almost  like  the  South 
Yorkshire  coalfields.  There  were  the  same  pit-heads 
and  shale-heaps,  so  that  you  could  almost  think  you 
were  in  England  again — but  how  different  from 

54 


6  THE  MOST  CRITICAL  DAY  OF  ALL  '      55 

England's  calmness  and  security  !  It  was  around 
these  pit-heads  and  shale-heaps  that  some  of  the 
fiercest  fighting  of  the  earlier  days  of  the  war  took 
place. 

We  had  left  Dublin  and  reached  Havre  at  midnight ; 
we  had  been  to  the  fortified  town  of  Landrecies,  where 
the  Coldstreamers  were  to  do  such  glorious  things, 
and  had  got  to  Maroilles,  where  Sir  Douglas  Haig  and 
the  1st  Division  became  heavily  engaged.  We  were 
at  Maroilles,  in  billets,  from  the  18th  to  the  21st. 
Billets  meant  almost  anything,  and  we  lived  and  slept 
in  all  sorts  of  places  as  well  as  the  trenches — but  being 
in  the  open  in  summer  was  no  hardship.  The  fields 
had  been  harvested  and  we  often  slept  on  the  stacks 
of  corn. 

The  people  were  really  most  kind;  they  gave  us 
every  mortal  thing  as  we  marched,  beer,  wine, 
cigarettes  and  anything  else  there  was. 

At  five  o'clock  on  the  Saturday  afternoon  we  were 
billeted  in  a  brewery,  where  we  stayed  till  Sunday 
noon,  when,  as  we  were  having  dinner,  shells  were 
bursting  and  beginning  things  for  us.  We  were 
ordered  to  take  up  a  position  about  two  miles  from 
Mons,  and  on  that  famous  Sunday  we  went  into 
action  near  a  railway  embankment. 

People  by  this  time  know  all  about  Mons,  so  I  will 
only  say  that  after  that  hard  business  we  retired 
towards  Le  Cateau,  after  fighting  all  day  on  the 
24th  and  all  the  following  night.  After  that  we  took 
up  a  position  on  outpost  and  stayed  on  outpost  all 
night,  then,  at  about  two  in  the  morning,  we  dropped 
into  some  trenches  that  we  had  previously  occupied. 

I  know  what  Mons  was  and  I  went  through  the 
battles  of  the  Marne  and  the  Aisne;  but  nothing  I 


56      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE  WAR 

had  seen  could  be  compared  for  fury  and  horror  with 
the  stand  of  the  5th  Division  on  the  26th.  It  was 
essentially  a  fight  by  the  5th,  because  that  was  the 
only  division  employed  at  Le  Cateau.  The  division 
was  composed  of  three  brigades,  the  12th,  13th  and 
14th.  My  battalion,  the  2nd  Yorkshire  Light  In- 
fantry, was  in  the  13th,  the  other  battalions  with  us 
being  the  West  Riding,  the  King's  Own  Scottish 
Borderers  and  the  West  Kent. 

There  were  some  coal-pit  hills  in  front  of  us  and 
the  Germans  advanced  over  them  in  thousands. 
That  was  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
the  firing  began  in  real  earnest  again. 

The  Germans  by  this  time  were  full  of  furious  hope 
and  reckless  courage,  because  they  believed  that  they 
had  got  us  on  the  run  and  that  it  was  merely  a  ques- 
tion of  hours  before  we  were  wiped  out  of  their  way. 
Their  blood  was  properly  up,  and  so  was  ours,  and  I 
think  we  were  a  great  deal  hotter  than  they  were, 
though  we  were  heavily  outnumbered.  We  hadn't 
the  same  opinion  of  German  soldiers  that  the  Germans 
had,  and  as  they  rushed  on  towards  us  we  opened  a 
fire  from  the  trenches  that  simply  destroyed  them. 

Some  brave  deeds  were  done  and  some  awful  sights 
were  seen  on  the  top  of  the  coal-pits  A  company 
of  Germans  were  on  one  of  the  tops  and  an  officer 
and  about  a  dozen  men  of  the  "  Koylis "  went 
round  one  side  of  the  pit  and  tried  to  get  at 
them.  Just  as  they  reached  the  back  of  the  pit 
the  German  artillery  opened  fire  on  the  lot,  Germans 
and  all — that  was  one  of  their  tricks.  They  would 
rather  sacrifice  some  of  their  own  men  themselves 
than  let  any  of  ours  escape — and  they  lost  many  in 
settling  their  account  with  the  handful  of  Englishmen 


'THE   MOST  CRITICAL  DAY  OF  ALL'     57 

who  had  rushed  behind  the  pit  at  a  whole  company 
of  Germans. 

Hereabouts,  at  the  pits,  the  machine-gun  fire  on 
both  sides  was  particularly  deadly.  Lieutenant 
Pepys,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  machine-gun  of 
our  section,  was  killed  by  shots  from  German  machine- 
guns,  and  when  we  went  away  we  picked  him  up  and 
carried  him  with  us  on  the  machine-gun  limber  until 
we  buried  him  outside  a  little  village  in  a  colliery 
district. 

He  was  a  very  nice  gentleman  and  the  first  officer 
to  go  down.  When  he  fell  Lieutenant  N.  B.  Dennison, 
the  brigade  machine-gun  officer,  took  charge.  He 
volunteered  to  take  over  the  gun,  and  was  either 
killed  or  wounded.  Then  Lieutenant  Unett,  the  well- 
known  gentleman  jockey,  crawled  on  his  stomach  to 
the  first  line  of  the  trenches,  with  some  men,  dragging 
a  machine-gun  behind  them.  They  got  this  gun  into 
the  very  front  of  the  line  of  the  trenches,  then 
opened  fire  on  the  Germans  with  disastrous  effect. 
Lieutenant  Unett  was  wounded  and  lay  in  the  open 
all  the  time. 

This  gallant  deed  was  done  between  twelve  noon 
and  one  o'clock,  and  I  was  one  of  the  few  men  who 
saw  it.  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  pay  my  humble 
tribute  to  it. 

There  was  a  battery  of  the  Royal  Field  Artillery 
on  our  left  rear,  about  800  yards  behind  the  front 
line  of  trenches.  Our  gunners  had  such  excellent 
range  on  the  Germans  that  the  German  gunners  were 
finding  them  with  high  explosive  shell.  It  was  mostly 
those  shells  that  were  dropping  on  them  till  they 
got  the  range  and  killed  the  gunners.  There  were 
only  about  five  who  were  not  either  killed  or  wounded. 


58      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

The  officer  was  wounded;  but  in  spite  of  that  he 
carried  a  wounded  man  round  the  bottom  of  the 
hill,  then  went  back  and  fetched  another  man  and 
repeated  the  journey  until  he  had  taken  every  one  of 
the  five  away.  After  that  he  returned,  picked  up  a 
spade  and  smashed  the  sights  of  the  gun  and  made 
it  useless.  We  heard  some  time  afterwards  that  he 
had  been  killed. 

This  brave  deed  was  witnessed  by  most  of  us  who 
were  in  the  front  line  of  trenches. 

When  the  German  guns  were  got  into  position  in 
front  of  us  and  the  Germans  tried  their  hardest  to 
blow  us  out  of  our  trenches,  they  searched  for  our 
artillery  and,  failing  to  discover  it,  they  grew  more 
determined  than  ever  to  rout  us  out  of  the  place 
from  which  we  were  doing  deadly  damage. 

In  spite  of  the  heavy  losses  around  us  we  held  on, 
and  all  the  more  stubbornly  because  we  expected 
every  moment  that  the  French  would  come  up  and 
reinforce  us.  The  French  were  due  about  four 
o'clock,  but  owing  to  some  accident  they  did  not 
arrive,  and  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  could  save  us. 

There  was  a  falling  off  in  our  artillery  fire,  and  it 
was  clear  that  one  of  our  batteries  had  been  put  out 
of  action.  And  no  wonder,  for  the  German  guns  were 
simply  raining  shells  upon  us.  The  Germans  at  that 
time  were  sticking  to  the  dense  formations  which  had 
been  their  practice  since  the  war  began — and  they 
hurled  themselves  forward  in  clouds  towards  the  37th 
Field  Battery. 

So  furiously  did  they  rush,  so  vast  were  their 
numbers,  and  so  certain  were  they  that  they  had  the 
guns  as  good  as  captured,  that  they  actually  got 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  battery. 


4  THE  MOST  CRITICAL  DAY   OF  ALL'     59 

It  was  at  this  terrible  crisis  that  Captain  Douglas 
Reynolds  and  volunteers  rushed  up  with  two  teams 
and  limbered  up  two  guns,  and  in  spite  of  all  the 
German  batteries  and  rifles  did  one  gun  was  saved. 
This  was  a  wonderful  escape,  in  view  of  the  nearness 
of  the  German  infantry  and  their  numbers,  and  for 
their  share  in  the  desperate  affair  the  captain  and 
two  of  the  drivers — Drane  and  Luke — who  had 
volunteered,  got  the  Victoria  Cross. 

In  a  way  we  had  got  used  to  retiring,  and  we  were 
not  at  the  end  of  it  even  now,  by  a  good  deal,  for 
on  our  left  the  Borderers  were  withdrawing  and  on 
our  right  the  Manchesters  were  being  forced  right 
back;  fighting  magnificently  and  leaving  the  ground 
littered  with  their  dead  and  wounded. 

The  Yorkshire  Light  Infantry  were  left  in  the 
centre  of  the  very  front  line  of  the  trenches,  where 
we  were  heavily  pressed.  We  made  every  mortal 
effort  to  hold  our  ground,  and  C  Company  was 
ordered  up  from  the  second  line  to  reinforce  us  in  the 
first. 

Imagine  what  it  meant  for  a  company  of  infantry 
to  get  from  one  trench  to  another  at  a  time  like 
that,  to  leave  shelter,  to  rush  across  a  space  of  open 
ground  that  was  literally  riddled  with  shrapnel  and 
rifle  bullets,  and  in  the  daytime,  too,  with  the  Germans 
in  overwhelming  force  at  point-blank  range. 

But  the  order  had  been  given,  and  C  Company 
obeyed.  The  men  sprang  from  their  trench,  they 
rushed  across  a  fire-swept  zone — and  the  handful  of 
them  who  were  not  shot  down  made  a  final  dash 
and  simply  tumbled  into  our  trench  and  strengthened 
us.  They  had  just  about  lost  their  first  wind,  but 
were  soon  hard  at  it  again  with  the  rifle  and  did 


60      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

murderous  work,  if  only  to  get  something  back  on 
account  of  the  comrades  who  had  fallen. 

It  was  a  help,  a  big  help,  to  have  C  Company 
with  us  in  the  front  trench;  but  even  with  this 
reinforcement  we  could  do  nothing,  and  after  we  had 
made  a  hot  stand  the  order  came  to  retire.  That 
was  about  half -past  four  in  the  afternoon. 

Things  had  been  bad  before;  they  were  almost 
hopeless  now,  for  to  retire  meant  to  show  ourselves 
in  the  open  and  become  targets  for  the  German 
infantry;  but  our  sole  chance  of  salvation  was  to 
hurry  away — there  was  no  thought  of  surrender. 

When  the  order  was  given  there  was  only  one 
thing  to  do — jump  out  of  the  trenches  and  make  a 
rush,  and  we  did  both ;  but  as  soon  as  we  were  seen 
a  storm  of  bullets  struck  down  most  of  the  men. 

At  such  a  time  it  is  every  man  for  himself,  and  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  think  of  anything  except  your  own 
skin.  All  I  wanted  to  do  was  to  obey  orders  and 
get  out  of  the  trench  and  away  from  it. 

I  had  rushed  about  half-a-dozen  yards  when  I  felt 
a  curious  tug  at  my  boot.  I  looked  to  see  what  was 
the  matter  and  found  that  my  foot  had  been  clutched 
by  a  poor  chap  who  was  wounded  and  was  lying  on 
the  ground  unable  to  move. 

"  For  God's  sake,  save  me  !  "  he  cried,  and  before 
I  knew  what  was  happening  I  had  got  hold  of  him 
and  slung  him  across  my  back.  I  can't  pretend  to 
tell  you  details  of  how  it  was  all  done,  because  I 
don't  clearly  remember.  There  was  no  time  to  think 
of  much  besides  the  bullets  and  the  fastest  way  of 
getting  out  of  their  reach.  Rain  was  falling,  not 
heavily,  but  it  was  drizzling,  and  this  made  the 
ground  greasy  and  pretty  hard  going. 


'THE  MOST  CRITICAL  DAY  OF  ALL'     61 

I  had  not  gone  far  before  the  poor  chap  complained 
that  my  equipment  hurt  him  and  begged  me  to  get 
it  out  of  his  way.  The  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to 
drop  the  equipment  altogether,  so  I  halted  and  some- 
how got  the  pack  and  the  rest  of  it  off,  and  I  let  my 
rifle  go,  too,  for  the  weight  of  the  lot,  with  the  weight 
of  a  man,  was  more  than  I  could  tackle. 

I  picked  my  man  up  again,  and  had  struggled  on 
for  twenty  or  thirty  yards  when  I  had  to  stop  for  a 
rest. 

Just  then  I  saw  the  major  of  the  company,  who 
said,  "  What's  the  matter  with  him?  " 

I  could  not  speak,  so  I  pointed  to  the  man's  knees, 
which  were  shot  with  shrapnel;  then  the  major 
answered,  "  All  right !  Take  him  as  far  as  you  can, 
and  I  hope  you'll  get  him  safely  out  of  it." 

I  picked  him  up  again  and  off  I  went,  making 
straight  over  the  hill  at  the  back  of  the  position  we 
had  taken,  so  that  he  should  be  safe  from  the  German 
fire.  The  point  I  wanted  to  reach  was  about  a  mile 
away,  and  it  was  a  dreadful  journey ;  but  I  managed 
to  do  it,  and  when  I  had  got  there,  after  many  rests,  I 
started  to  carry  my  man  to  the  nearest  village,  which 
was  some  distance  off. 

I  got  to  the  village,  but  the  German  heavy  shells 
were  dropping  so  fast  that  I  could  not  stay  there, 
and  they  told  me  to  carry  him  into  the  next  village. 
I  was  pretty  well  worn  out  by  this  time,  but  I  started 
again,  and  at  last  with  a  thankful  heart  I  reached  the 
village  and  got  the  man  into  a  house  where  wounded 
men  were  being  put. 

How  far  did  I  carry  him  ? 

Well,  it  was  calculated  that  the  distance  was  three 
miles;  but  I  never  felt  the  weight.  Yes,  he  was 


62      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 


quite  conscious  and  kept  on  moaning  and  saying, 
"  Oh  !  "  and  telling  me  that  if  ever  he  got  out  of 
it  he  would  remember  me ;  but  I  said  that  he  mustn't 
talk  such  nonsense — for  I  wanted  him  to  stop  thanking 
me  and  to  keep  his  spirits  up. 

I  don't  know  how  long  I  was  in  getting  him  over 
the  ground,  for  I  had  no  idea  of  time. 

Having  put  my  man  in  safety  I  left  the  house  and 
began  to  go  back  to  the  position,  expecting  to  find 
some  of  the  regiments  to  rejoin,  but  when  I  reached 
the  firing  line  there  were  no  regiments  left.  They 
had  been  forced  to  retire,  and  the  ground  was  covered 
with  the  dead  and  wounded,  as  it  was  impossible  to 
bring  all  the  wounded  away. 

There  was  a  road  at  this  particular  point,  and  on 
reaching  the  top  of  it  I  saw  the  Germans  advancing, 
about  500  yards  away.  Between  them  and  myself 
there  was  a  field-gun,  with  the  horses  hooked  in, 
ready  to  move  off;  but  I  saw  that  there  was  only  a 
wounded  trumpeter  with  it. 

I  rushed  up  to  him  and  shouted,  "  What's  wrong  ?  " 

"  I'm  hurt,"  he  said.  "  The  gun  has  to  be  got 
away;  but  there's  nobody  left  to  take  it." 

I  looked  all  around,  and  saw  that  there  were  no 
English  gunners  left — there  were  only  the  Germans 
swarming  up,  500  yards  away  and  badly  wanting  to 
get  at  the  gun. 

There  was  not  a  second  to  lose.  "  Come  on,"  I 
said,  and  with  that  I  hoisted  the  trumpeter  into  the 
saddle  of  the  near  wheel  horse,  and  clambering  myself 
into  the  saddle  of  the  lead  horse  we  got  the  gun 
going  and  made  a  dash  up  the  hill. 

There  was  only  the  one  road,  and  this  was  so 
littered  up  and  fenced  about  with  wire  entangle- 


4  THE  MOST   CRITICAL  DAY  OF  ALL'     63 

ments  that  we  could  not  hope  to  escape  by  it.  Our 
only  chance  was  by  dashing  at  the  hill,  and  this  we 
did — and  a  terrible  business  it  was,  because  we  were 
forced  to  gallop  the  gun  over  the  dead  bodies  of  our 
own  men — mostly  artillerymen,  they  were.  Many  of 
the  poor  chaps  had  crawled  away  from  their  battery 
and  had  died  on  the  hillside  or  on  the  road. 

We  carried  on  over  the  hill,  and  when  the  Germans 
saw  what  we  were  doing  they  rained  shells  and  bullets 
on  us.  One  or  two  of  the  horses  were  hit,  and  a 
bullet  knocked  my  cap  off  and  took  a  piece  of  skin 
from  my  head — just  here.  But  that  didn't  hurt  me 
much,  nor  did  another  bullet  which  went  through  my 
coat.  We  carried  on,  and  got  over  the  hill,  just 
driving  straight  ahead,  for  we  couldn't  steer,  not 
even  to  avoid  the  dead. 

I  daresay  the  bullet  that  carried  off  my  cap  stunned 
me  a  bit,  at  any  rate  I  didn't  remember  very  much 
after  that,  for  the  time  being ;  all  I  know  is  that  we 
galloped  madly  along,  and  dashed  through  two  or 
three  villages.  There  was  no  one  in  the  first  village; 
but  in  the  second  I  saw  an  old  lady  sitting  outside 
a  house,  with  two  buckets  of  water,  from  which 
soldiers  were  drinking.  She  was  rocking  to  and  fro, 
with  her  head  between  her  hands,  a  pitiful  sight. 
Shells  were  dropping  all  around  and  the  place  was  a 
wreck. 

I  carried  on  at  full  stretch  for  about  ten  miles, 
tearing  along  to  get  to  the  rear  of  the  column.  I 
don't  remember  that  I  ever  looked  back ;  but  I  took 
it  that  the  trumpeter  was  still  in  the  saddle  of  the 
wheel  horse. 

At  last  I  caught  up  with  the  column ;  then  I  looked 
round  for  the  trumpeter,  but  he  was  not  there,  and 


64      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

I  did  not  know  what  had  become  of  him.  That  was 
the  first  I  knew  of  the  fact  that  I  had  been  driving 
the  gun  by  myself. 

Willy-nilly  I  had  become  a  sort  of  artilleryman,  and 
from  that  time  until  the  28th  I  attached  myself  to 
the  guns ;  but  on  that  day  I  rejoined  what  was  left 
of  my  old  regiment. 

I  had  been  in  charge  of  twelve  men,  but  when  I 
inquired  about  them  I  found  that  only  three  were 
left — nine  had  been  either  killed  or  wounded,  and 
the  rest  of  the  battalion  had  suffered  in  proportion. 
That  gives  some  idea  of  the  desperate  nature  of  the 
fighting  and  the  way  in  which  the  little  British  army 
suffered  during  the  first  three  days  after  Mons. 

The  officer  who  had  seen  me  carrying  the  man  off 
did  not  see  me  go  back,  but  a  sergeant  who  knew 
me  noticed  me  passing  through  the  village  with  the 
gun  and  he  was  the  first  man  of  my  battalion  that 
I  saw.  This  was  Sergeant  Marchant,  who,  for  his 
gallantry  in  helping  another  sergeant,  who  was 
wounded,  was  awarded  the  Distinguished  Conduct 
Medal.  In  that  fine  affair  he  was  helped  by  Company- 
Sergeant-Major  Bolton,  and  both  of  them  were 
mentioned  in  despatches. 

Of  course  I  never  thought  of  saying  anything  about 
what  I  had  done ;  but  I  was  sent  for  and  asked  if  it 
was  true,  and  I  said  I  had  got  the  man  away  and 
helped  to  take  the  gun  off,  and  this  was  confirmed  by 
the  major  who  had  seen  me  carrying  the  man. 

For  the  day's  work  at  Le  Cateau  two  Victoria 
Crosses  were  given  to  my  regiment — one  to  Major 
C.  A.  L.  Yate,  "  Cal,"  he  was  called,  because  of  his 
initials,  and  one  to  myself. 

Major  Yate  was  a  very  fine  officer.     He  joined  us 


'THE  MOST  CRITICAL  DAY  OF  ALL'     65 

and  took  command  of  B  Company  just  before 
we"  went  out  to  the  war.  On  this  day  he  was  in  the 
trenches,  on  our  left  rear,  not  very  far  from  where  I 
was.  When  we  went  into  action  he  had  220  men, 
but  they  caught  so  much  of  the  hot  fire  which  was 
meant  for  the  battery  behind  that  he  lost  all  his  men 
except  nineteen  when  he  was  surrounded  and  cap- 
tured. The  day  before  this  happened  the  major 
declared  that  if  it  came  to  a  pinch  and  they  were 
surrounded  he  would  not  surrender — and  he  did  not 
surrender  now.  Reckless  of  the  odds  against  him  he 
headed  his  nineteen  men  in  a  charge  against  the 
Germans — and  when  that  charge  was  over  only  three 
of  the  company  could  be  formed  up.  All  the  rest 
of  B  Company  were  either  killed  or  wounded  or 
taken  prisoners,  though  very  few  prisoners  were 
taken.  The  major  was  one  of  them;  but  he  was 
so  badly  wounded  that  he  lived  only  a  very  short 
time,  and  died  as  a  prisoner  of  war.  His  is  one  of 
the  cases  in  which  the  Cross  is  given  although  the 
winner  of  it  is  dead.  Major  Yate  was  an  absolute 
gentleman  and  a  great  favourite  with  us  all.  He 
had  had  a  lot  of  experience  in  the  Far  East  and  at 
home,  and  I  am  sure  that  if  he  had  lived  he  would 
have  become  a  general.  He  was  always  in  front,  and 
his  constant  cry  was  "  Follow  me  !  " 

From  Le  Cateau  we  got  to  the  Valley  of  the  Aisne 
and  were  in  trenches  for  ten  days.  At  midnight  on 
September  24th  we  advanced  two  miles  beyond  the 
river,  which  we  had  crossed  by  pontoons  because  all 
the  other  bridges  had  been  blown  up. 

We  reached  a  little  village  and  stayed  there  in 
shelters  underneath  the  houses,  where  all  the  in- 
habitants slept.  We  stayed  in  one  of  these  cellars 


66      SOLDIERS'   STORIES  OF  THE   WAR 

and  went  on  outpost  at  four  in  the  morning  and 
came  off  at  four  next  morning,  then  went  on  again 
at  four  a.m. 

We  were  only  250  yards  from  the  Germans,  who 
were  in  a  small  wood  outside  the  village,  opposite  the 
houses.  They  had  snipers  out  and  were  sniping  at 
us  all  the  time.  We  barricaded  the  windows  of  the 
houses  and  knocked  bricks  out  of  the  walls  to  make 
loopholes,  and  through  these  loopholes  we  sniped  the 
Germans,  and  they  did  their  level  best  to  pick  us  off 
too.  Every  time  your  head  was  shown  a  dozen 
bullets  came,  and  you  could  not  see  where  they  came 
from.  Two  or  three  of  our  men  were  killed  by 
snipers ;  but  there  was  no  real  chance  of  getting  to 
grips,  for  there  was  barbed  wire  everywhere,  and 
nothing  could  be  done  till  this  was  cut.  Night  was 
the  only  time  when  the  wire  could  be  cut — and  night 
work  was  both  eerie  and  nerve-racking. 

We  had  "  listeners  "  to  listen  for  any  movement 
by  the  enemy.  A  sentry  in  peace  times  means  a  man 
who  walks  up  and  down,  smartly  dressed,  but  in 
war  time,  at  night,  he  is  a  listener,  and  in  the  daytime 
he  is  a  "  watcher  "  —he  can  see  in  the  daytime  and 
hear  at  night.  That  is  one  of  the  little  things  which 
show  how  greatly  war  changes  the  customs  of  peace. 

It  was  outside  Bethune,  when  we  were  in  reserve 
to  the  rest  of  the  brigade,  that  I  was  wounded.  We 
had  got  well  into  October  and  we  were  behind  trenches, 
with  French  infantry  on  our  right.  At  night  we 
advanced,  on  a  level  with  the  firing  line,  and  in  the 
darkness  we  dug  trenches.  We  were  then  next  to 
the  King's  Own  Scottish  Borderers.  We  finished  the 
trenches  before  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  and 
stuck  in  them  till  five  in  the  afternoon,  when  we 


'THE   MOST   CRITICAL  DAY  OF  ALL'     67 

heard  some  shouts,  and  on  looking  over  we  saw  that 
the  Germans  were  making  a  charge. 

We  opened  rapid  fire  and  the  Germans  answered 
very  smartly,  having  dropped  down.  But  they  were 
not  down  long,  for  up  they  sprang  and  with  further 
shouts  on  they  came  and  got  within  three  hundred 
yards  of  us.  Then  we  were  ordered  to  fix  bayonets 
and  be  ready  to  charge  at  any  moment;  but  before 
we  started  charging  we  rushed  into  another  line  of 
trenches  in  front  of  us,  and  there  we  mixed  with  the 
Borderers. 

This  fight  in  the  night  was  a  thrilling  affair,  the 
chief  guide  on  each  side  being  the  flashes  of  the 
rifles,  and  these  were  incessant.  The  Germans  were 
firing  rapidly  at  anything  they  could  see ;  but  there 
was  little  to  see  except  the  tiny  forks  of  flame.  They 
must  have  heard  us,  however,  and  that,  of  course, 
would  help  them.  One  strange  thing  happened  when 
we  reached  the  trench,  and  that  was  that  we  had  to 
wake  up  some  of  the  men.  In  spite  of  the  fighting 
they  were  sleeping — but  war  turns  everything  upside 
down,  and  the  British  soldier  reaches  a  point  when  it 
takes  a  lot  to  disturb  him. 

Suddenly,  at  this  crisis,  I  felt  as  if  my  leg  had  been 
struck  by  something  that  vibrated,  like  a  spring- 
board, and  I  dropped  down.  I  was  dizzy,  but  did 
not  think  I  was  hit,  and  I  supposed  that  if  I  stayed 
down  for  a  few  minutes  I  should  be  all  right  and 
able  to  go  on.  So  I  sat  down,  but  quickly  found  that 
I  could  not  move,  and  on  feeling  my  leg  I  discovered 
that  it  was  wet  and  warm,  and  I  knew  what  that 
meant,  so  I  took  off  my  equipment  and  put  it  down 
and  began  to  crawl  back  to  the  trench  I  had  left 
when  we  charged. 


68      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

I  crawled  across  a  mangel-wurzel  field  to  a  house 
of  some  sort,  then  I  must  have  become  unconscious, 
for  the  next  thing  I  knew  was  that  I  was  being  carried 
along  on  a  stretcher. 

It  was  only  yesterday  that  a  friend  in  my  battalion 
wrote  to  tell  me  that  we  were  crawling  pretty  close 
together  through  the  mangel-wurzel  field.  He  was 
shot  in  the  arm  and  stopped  two  of  the  Borderers' 
stretcher-bearers  just  in  time  to  have  me  put  on  a 
stretcher. 

I  had  a  natural  walking-stick  which  I  had  cut 
from  a  vine,  and  of  which  I  was  very  fond.  I  had 
fastened  it  to  my  rifle  and  was  so  proud  of  it  that 
I  said  I  would  carry  it  through  the  war,  if  I  could. 
My  friend  must  have  known  how  I  prized  the  vine- 
stick,  for  when  he  was  sent  home  he  brought  it  with 
him,  and  it's  waiting  for  me  when  I  leave  hospital. 

I  also  had  a  letter  from  my  company  officer  a  few 
days  ago.  He  says  he  missed  me  that  night,  but  he 
could  not  make  out  what  had  happened.  He  heard 
that  a  complete  set  of  equipment  had  been  found, 
and  on  learning  that  I  was  wounded  he  assumed  that 
it  was  mine,  and  that  I  had  been  carried  away  and 
left  it.  He  told  me  that  on  the  very  night  I  was 
wounded  they  were  relieved  by  the  French  infantry, 
and  that  he  himself  was  hit  ten  days  afterwards. 
It  was  the  day  before  I  was  wounded  that  I  heard 
that  I  was  recommended  for  the  French  Military 
Medal,  and  that  was  as  big  a  surprise  to  me  as  the 
news  that  I  had  been  given  the  Victoria  Cross. 

That  equipment  of  mine  had  a  tragic  history. 
During  the  first  day  of  the  Aisne  I  was  without 
equipment  and  set  to  work  to  get  some.  A  bugler 
of  my  battalion  had  been  killed  by  shrapnel  and  I 


'THE  MOST  CRITICAL  DAY   OF  ALL'     69 

was  told  by  my  officer  to  go  and  get  his  equipment. 
"  Treat  him  gently,  poor  chap,"  said  the  officer,  and 
you  may  be  sure  I  did.  I  helped  myself,  and  think- 
ing that  the  poor  lad's  mother  might  like  a  memento 
I  brought  away  his  "  iron-rations  "  tin.  This  is 
riddled  with  bullet-holes,  just  as  the  bugler  was. 

There  is  one  thing  more  that  I  would  like  to  say,  and 
it  is  about  my  birthday,  which  falls  on  September  7th. 
As  I  had  left  the  colours  and  gone  into  the  Reserve 
I  thought  I  could  look  forward  to  a  fine  celebration 
of  the  anniversary.  And  there  was  a  fine  celebration, 
too,  for  on  September  7th  our  retiring  before  the  Ger- 
mans ended  and  we  started  to  advance  and  drive 
them  back. 

Could  any  British  soldier  want  a  finer  birthday 
celebration  than  that? 


CHAPTER  VI 

BRITISH  FIGHTERS  IN  FRENCH  FORTS 

[We  very  slowly  learned  something  of  the  many  extra- 
ordinary features  of  this  amazing  war.  Nothing  is  too  astonish- 
ing or  stupendous  to  happen  in  connection  with  the  fight  to 
crush  the  militarism  of  Prussia.  Through  this  story  by  Private 
J.  Boyers,  of  the  Durham  Light  Infantry — the  old  68th  Foot, 
long  known  by  reason  of  its  devotion  on  many  a  bloody  field 
like  Salamanca  and  Inkerman  as  the  "  Faithful  Durhams  "- 
we  get  to  know  something  of  the  British  and  French  fighting 
side  by  side  in  the  forts  at  Lille,  one  of  the  strongest  of  the 
famous  fortresses  of  France.  Lille  is  a  great  manufacturing 
town,  the  Manchester  of  France,  and  early  in  October  1914, 
and  later,  it  was  the  scene  of  much  desperate  fighting  between 
the  Allied  Armies  and  the  Germans.] 

I  WENT  from  England  with  the  first  party  in  the 
Expeditionary  Force,  and  after  landing  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Channel,  we  had  a  march  of  fifty  miles  to 
Mons,  where  I  had  my  first  battle. 

I  was  in  the  great  retirement — but  I  suppose  you 
have  heard  enough  about  that  and  Mons  already,  so 
I  will  leave  it.  After  that  beginning,  I  took  part  in 
the  Battle  of  the  Marne  and  the  Battle  of  the  Aisne, 
and  later  on  I  was  shot  in  the  thigh  and  bowled  out. 

I  am  only  a  young  soldier — I  am  a  native  of  Sunder- 
land,  and  was  born  in  1891 — and  I  have  only  been  in 
the  army  a  few  months — in  the  old  68th,  the  "  Faithful 
Durhams,"  so  I  think  I  have  seen  a  fair  lot  of  the  big 
war  and  have  got  to  know  what  it  means. 

70 


BRITISH  FIGHTERS   IN   FRENCH  FORTS     71 

The  Durhams  have  done  splendidly  and  suffered 
terribly,  and  many  a  chum  of  mine  is  sleeping  with 
thousands  more  British  soldiers  on  the  battlefields  of 
France  and  Belgium.  A  great  many  have  been 
wounded,  and  of  course  there  are  a  number  of  missing, 
mostly  men,  I  dare  say,  who  are  prisoners  of  war. 

I  had  been  at  sea  before  joining  the  army,  and 
thought  I  knew  something  about  roughing  it;  but 
even  the  North  Sea  in  bad  weather  was  nothing 
compared  with  the  hardships  of  the  retirement  from 
Mons,  and  the  living  and  sleeping  in  the  trenches  when 
the  ground  was  sodden  and  deep  in  water. 

Sometimes  we  were  very  short  of  food,  and  once  for 
several  days  on  end  we  were  almost  starving,  because 
the  supplies  could  not  get  up  to  us,  and  we  had  been 
forced  to  throw  away  a  lot  of  our  packs  and  things. 

A  good  many  of  us  had  to  carry  a  seven-pound  tin 
of  bully  beef  in  addition  to  our  heavy  packs  and  a 
great  many  rounds  of  ammunition.  In  the  fearfully 
hot  weather  we  could  not  carry  all  this  weight,  and 
the  tins  of  beef  had  to  go.  We  should  have  been 
thankful  for  them  later  on,  when  we  ran  short  and 
some  of  the  beef  we  had  with  us  had  gone  bad  through 
the  tins  getting  punctured,  which  happened  in  all  sorts 
of  strange  ways,  including  bullet-holes  and  bayonet 
pricks.  But  these  were  things  that  couldn't  be  helped, 
and  in  spite  of  them  all  we  kept  very  cheerful,  and  often 
enough,  both  on  the  march  and  in  the  trenches  and 
French  forts,  when  we  got  to  them,  we  sang  and  joked 
and  whistled  as  if  there  was  no  such  thing  going  on 
as  war. 

Our  officers  shared  everything  with  us,  and  suffered 
just  as  we  did,  though  often  worse,  so  that  whenever 
we  got  a  bit  downhearted,  their  example  cheered  us 


72       SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

up  and  put  us  right.  I  don't  think  there's  a  man 
who's  fought  in  this  great  war  who  won't  say  the  same 
thing  about  his  officers. 

We  had  so  much  fierce  fighting  when  the  work  really 
began,  and  saw  so  many  strange  and  dreadful  things, 
that  it  is  not  easy  to  say  what  stands  out  most  clearly 
in  our  minds  in  such  a  business,  but  one  of  the  things 
I  do  remember,  and  shall  never  forget,  is  the  week  or 
so  we  spent  in  one  of  the  big  French  forts  at  Lille, 
fighting  side  by  side  with  French  soldiers.  I  will  tell 
you  about  that  later,  but  we  did  a  lot  before  we  got 
to  Lille. 

When  we  were  on  the  march  we  had  a  great  deal 
of  exciting  work  to  do  in  hunting  Germans.  Small 
bodies  of  them  were  everywhere,  apart  from  the 
immense  numbers  of  spies  who  were  in  the  Lille  dis- 
trict and  elsewhere. 

The  French  bagged  a  lot  of  spies  and  gave  them 
short  shrift.  They  hid  in  all  sorts  of  queer  places — 
some  of  them  got  into  the  tall  mill  chimneys — but  they 
were  routed  out  and  shot. 

We  found  a  fair  lot  of  Germans  in  houses  and  farms 
when  we  were  on  the  march.  We  examined  these 
places  thoroughly.  When  we  arrived  at  farmhouses 
and  suchlike  places,  a  non-commissioned  officer,  with 
a  small  party  of  men  would  make  inquiries,  often  with 
the  help  of  French  cavalrymen  who  were  with  us  and 
could  speak  English,  and  we  always  found  that  threats 
of  fearful  punishment  to  the  womenfolk  had  been  made 
by  the  Germans  if  they  told  us  that  any  Germans  had 
been  seen  about.  But  the  women  told  us  readily 
enough,  especially  when  there  happened  to  be  any 
Germans  in  hiding — those  who  were  too  drunk  to  get 
away  and  had  been  left  behind.  It  didn't  take  long 


BRITISH   FIGHTERS   IN   FRENCH  FORTS     73 

to  make  these  fellows  prisoners,  and  they  rubbed  their 
eyes  a  lot  when  they  got  sober  and  found  that  the 
British  had  bagged  them — though  I  fancy  that  most 
of  them  were  glad  to  be  caught  and  out  of  the  fighting. 

We  saw  some  dreadful  sights  in  these  farms  and 
houses  that  we  entered,  and  it  was  no  uncommon 
thing  for  us  to  bury  the  women  who  had  been  done  to 
death  by  these  invaders  who  were  worse  than  heathens. 
We  had  to  carry  out  this  sad  work  at  night,  to  escape 
the  German  fire,  for  no  matter  what  we  were  doing 
they  went  for  us  with  rifles  and  machine-guns  and 
anything  else  that  came  handy. 

Time  after  time  on  the  march  we  saw  proof  of  the 
terrible  way  in  which  the  French  and  Germans  fought, 
and  saw  how  bravely  the  French  had  defended  their 
country  and  how  freely  they  had  given  their  lives  to 
get  something  like  even  with  the  enemy. 

The  Frenchmen  were  naturally  even  more  upset 
than  the  British  soldiers  were  at  many  of  the  sights 
that  met  us,  and  in  the  streets  along  which  we  marched 
we  often  saw  dead  bodies  of  Frenchmen  and  Germans 
lying  close  together,  where  they  had  fallen  after  a 
desperate  fight  on  the  pavements  or  in  the  roadway. 
They  had  met  and  fought  to  the  death,  and  it  looked 
as  if  no  quarter  had  been  given.  And  with  all  this 
there  had  been  a  perfectly  savage  destruction  of  every- 
thing that  the  Germans  could  lay  their  hands  on. 

The  Germans  had  thieved  and  killed  wherever  they 
had  gone,  led  on  in  the  work  by  their  officers,  and  little 
supposing,  I  fancy,  that  the  day  of  reckoning  had 
come  for  them  and  that  their  brutal  game  was  being 
spoiled.  There  is  no  doubt  that  they  had  been  taught 
that  they  were  going  to  have  a  walk  over  in  France 
and  were  going  to  have  a  good  time  in  Paris;  but 


74       SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

some  of  them  were  poor  enough  specimens  when  we 
caught  them  or  they  surrendered. 

After  the  terrific  battles  of  the  Marne  and  the  Aisne 
we  were  transferred  rather  quickly  to  La  Bassee, 
which  is  not  far  from  Lille,  and  then  we  had  to  take  a 
share  in  defending  Lille,  in  one  of  the  big  forts  just 
outside  the  town. 

The  Germans  had  got  up  into  that  part  of  the 
country  in  very  strong  force,  and  they  were  making 
furious  efforts  to  smash  the  forts  and  get  hold  of 
Lille,  which  had  become  a  most  important  place  for 
them. 

Lille  is  a  large  manufacturing  town  and  was  very 
strongly  defended  by  forts  and  in  other  ways.  These 
big  forts,  about  half-a-dozen  in  number,  form  a  ring 
round  the  town  and  command  all  the  countryside,  or 
rather  did,  for  they  have  been  pretty  badly  hammered 
by  this  time;  while  the  town  itself  is  protected  in 
other  ways.  Lille  was  also  one  of  the  big  centres  for 
French  troops,  but  owing  to  the  heavy  drain  caused 
by  the  immense  numbers  of  Germans  that  had  to  be 
dealt  with  at  the  Aisne  there  were  not  a  great  many 
first-rate  troops  left,  and  a  good  deal  of  the  defence 
had  to  fall  on  the  territorials. 

The  particular  fort  where  I  had  my  strangest 
experiences  was  about  a  mile  from  Lille,  and  from  the 
outside  it  looked  like  a  low  hill-top,  so  much  so  that 
when  we  were  getting  near  it  the  fort  seemed  like  a 
little  round  hill  rising  from  the  plain. 

The  fort  was  built  of  immense  blocks  of  stone,  and, 
as  far  as  one  could  tell,  great  quantities  of  steel,  so 
that  its  strength  must  have  been  enormous. 

It  was  a  romantic  sort  of  business  to  get  into  the 
fort,  because,  first  of  all,  we  had  to  pass  the  sentries, 


BRITISH  FIGHTERS   IN   FRENCH  FORTS     75 

then  some  huge  stone  sliding  doors  were  opened,  by  a 
lever,  I  suppose,  in  the  same  way  as  the  midway  doors 
of  a  District  Railway  carriage  open  and  shut.  They 
were  very  big  and  heavy  doors,  yet  they  opened  and 
shut  quite  easily,  and  when  they  were  closed  you  could 
hardly  see  a  crack  between  them. 

Past  this  gloomy  entrance  was  a  narrow  walled  slope 
which  led  into  darkness .  We  went  down  the  slope  into 
what  looked  like  an  archway  and  then  we  got  into 
proper  blackness.  It  was  some  time  before  you  could 
get  used  to  such  darkness,  but  at  last  I  saw  that  we 
had  reached  a  large  vault;  but  I  can't  pretend  to 
give  details,  because  I  never  had  a  chance  of  properly 
making  them  out,  and  we  were  more  concerned  about 
the  Germans  than  we  were  about  the  fort. 

Of  course  it  can  be  easily  understood  that  owing  to 
the  presence  of  great  quantities  of  ammunition  and 
inflammable  stores,  only  the  dimmest  lighting  was 
possible — in  fact,  there  was  practically  no  lighting 
at  all  except  by  little  portable  electric  lamps,  and  as 
for  smoking,  that  was  absolutely  off. 

The  instant  we  reached  the  fort  we  were  told  that 
smoking  was  most  strictly  forbidden,  and  that  dis- 
obedience was  punishable  by  death.  The  French 
soldier  is  as  fond  as  the  British  Tommy  of  his  smoke, 
but  it  is  a  remarkable  thing  that  in  the  darkness  of 
the  fort  we  didn't  feel  the  want  of  smoking,  which 
isn't  much  of  a  catch  in  the  pitch  darkness.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  I  had  no  wish  to  smoke  when  we  were 
in  the  fort,  so  I  was  never  tempted  to  run  the  risk  of 
being  shot. 

Cooking,  like  smoking,  was  out  of  the  question,  for 
you  can  no  more  smoke  with  safety  in  a  magazine  like 
that  than  you  can  in  a  coal-mine — a  spark  is  enough 


76      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

to  do  tremendous  mischief,  let  alone  a  fire;  so  our 
rations  had  to  be  brought  to  us  by  the  Army  Service 
Corps,  though  they,  with  their  carts,  were  a  long 
way  off. 

The  A.S.C.  chaps  were  splendid  all  through,  and 
the  men  in  the  fighting  line  owe  a  lot  to  them. 

In  this  black  dungeon,  with  such  cunning  Germans 
about,  a  sentry's  challenge  was  a  good  deal  more  than 
a  formality;  but  it  nearly  became  one  when  the 
welcome  commissariat  man  arrived.  But  for  his 
coming  we  should  have  had  to  fall  back  on  our  emer- 
gency rations.  These  were  good,  of  their  kind,  but 
they  can't  compare  with  the  best  efforts  of  the  A.S.C. 

But  I'm  getting  off  the  track  a  bit.  In  the  side  of 
the  vault,  or  cavern,  there  was  a  low,  shallow  dug-out 
which  was  meant  to  hold  a  rifleman  lying  at  full 
stretch.  This  was  something  like  a  small  cubicle  in 
size  and  shape,  and  to  enter  it  in  the  darkness  was  a 
proper  problem.  After  a  try  or  two,  however,  you 
got  into  the  way  of  stumbling  comfortably  into  it. 
By  crouching  and  creeping,  and  using  your  hands 
and  knees,  you  could  secure  a  position  from  which  it 
was  fairly  easy  to  draw  yourself  up  into  the  dug-out. 
I  dwell  on  this  because  I  think  it  is  important,  seeing 
that  four  of  us  took  two-hour  watches  throughout  the 
twenty-four  hours,  so  that  getting  to  and  from  such 
a  dug-out  becomes  an  event  in  your  daily  life. 

At  one  end  of  the  dug-out  was  a  loophole  for  a  rifle 
or  a  maxim-gun,  and  here  we  patiently  waited  for 
those  pests,  the  snipers.  These  German  potters  gave 
us  no  rest ;  but  many  a  German  who  thought  he  was 
well  hidden  got  the  finishing  touch  from  one  of  our 
loopholes. 

This  was  thrilling  fighting,  especially  when  things 


BRITISH  FIGHTERS  IN  FRENCH  FORTS    77 

became  hot,  and  we  manned  all  the  loopholes  in  the 
fort,  to  the  number  of  four,  and  at  a  pinch  we  could 
use  two  maxims  at  each.  There  were  fourteen  of  us 
in  the  fort  altogether,  four  officers  and  ten  men.  The 
orders,  being  in  French,  sounded  very  strange  at  first, 
but  to  my  surprise,  I  soon  fell  into  the  way  of  under- 
standing what  was  said  around  me,  certainly  so  far  as 
ordinary  little  things  were  concerned.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  French  for  water  so  long  as  I  remember 
the  thirst  I  had  in  the  black  depths  of  the  fort. 

The  life  in  the  fort  was  one  of  the  strangest  parts 
of  the  whole  of  the  fighting.  It  was  queer  enough  to 
be  in  France,  fighting  with  the  French,  but  a  good 
deal  queerer  to  be  living  in  one  of  the  big  famous 
French  forts  which  the  Germans  were  trying  to  pound 
to  bits  with  their  enormous  siege  guns.  But  we  soon 
settled  down  and  got  fairly  well  used  to  the  sound  of 
the  fort's  guns  and  the  row  of  the  German  artillery 
and  the  crashing  of  the  shells  around  us. 

We  were  told  off  into  parties  in  the  fort,  each  party 
being  commanded  by  a  non-commissioned  officer,  who 
used  to  light  the  way  for  us  with  an  electric  lamp  that 
he  carried  in  front  of  him,  hung  round  his  neck. 

We  ate  and  drank  and  slept  with  the  French  gun- 
ners, and  taken  altogether  we  were  very  comfortable, 
and  were  spared  something  of  the  awful  noise  of  the 
firing,  for  when  the  guns  of  the  forts  were  fired  the 
noise  was  worse  [than  thunderbolts,  and  everything 
about  was  shaken  in  the  most  extraordinary  manner. 

The  Germans  were  mad  to  get  at  us  and  they  shot 
tons  and  tons  of  shells  at  us,  and  time  after  time  made 
efforts  to  storm  the  forts  and  Lille  itself.  In  these 
attempts  they  lost  immense  numbers  of  men,  and 
when  we  got  outside  of  the  fort  we  saw  the  dead  bodies 


78      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

of  the  Germans  lying  about  in  thousands — so  thick  on 
the  ground  were  they  that  we  had  to  clamber  over 
them  as  best  we  could. 

Our  own  fort  was  pretty  lucky,  but  the  next  one  to 
us  was  very  badly  damaged,  huge  holes  being  made 
where  the  monster  shells  got  home,  and  most  of  the 
defenders  of  the  fort  being  wiped  out.  The  German 
big  guns  certainly  did  a  vast  amount  of  mischief 
against  forts — so  the  Germans  will  know  what  to 
expect  when  our  own  big  guns  get  to  work  on  forts  in 
Germany. 

It  was  soon  clear  that  it  would  not  be  possible  to 
hold  on  at  Lille  for  long,  because  we  were  so  hopelessly 
outnumbered.  The  fight  went  on,  day  and  night,  for 
a  full  week,  and  the  Germans  bombarded  everything. 

On  Sunday,  October  4th,  there  was  some  desperate 
fighting  in  the  streets  of  the  town  and  the  outskirts. 
German  troops  were  rushed  up  in  armoured  trains 
and  motors,  but  when  it  came  to  hand-to-hand  fight- 
ing they  were  not  much  good,  and  on  the  Monday 
they  were  driven  away  writh  heavy  loss. 

We  had  a  few  goes  at  them  with  the  bayonet,  and 
that  charging  was  very  hard  work.  It  had  to  be  done 
in  short  rushes  of  about  a  hundred  yards,  but  we 
could  not  get  near  enough  to  them  to  give  the  bayonet 
a  fair  chance.  In  that  respect  it  was  the  same  old 
story — the  Germans  would  not  face  the  steel.  In 
anything  like  equal  numbers  they  can't  stand  up 
against  a  charge.  They  would  mostly  run  for  it, 
firing  at  us  over  their  shoulders  as  they  bolted,  but 
not  doing  a  great  deal  of  mischief  that  way.  When 
they  could  run  no  more  and  saw  that  the  game  was 
up,  they  would  throw  away  their  rifles  and  surrender, 
and  we  then  brought  them  in. 


BRITISH   FIGHTERS   IN   FRENCH  FORTS     79 

Before  the  fighting  began,  and  while  it  was  going  on, 
a  good  many  of  the  inhabitants  got  into  a  panic  and 
fled  to  Boulogne  and  Calais ;  but  the  French  troops 
held  out  gamely,  and  on  the  Tuesday  a  fearful  lot  of 
execution  was  done  amongst  the  masses  of  Germans 
by  the  French  artillery  fire.  Neither  the  German 
guns  nor  the  infantry  could  make  a  stand  against  this 
onslaught,  and  at  this  time  the  German  losses  were 
particularly  heavy,  hundreds  of  men  falling  together 
At  the  end  of  that  part  of  the  battle  the  Germans  for 
the  time  being  were  completely  routed,  and  they  were 
driven  back  a  good  dozen  miles. 

The  Durhams  suffered  greatly  in  the  fighting,  and 
the  good  old  West  Yorkshires,  who  had  seen  a  lot  of 
hard  work  with  us,  had  been  badly  cut  up  too.  Some 
splendid  help  was  given  by  the  little  Gurkhas,  who 
had  joined  the  British ;  but  unfortunately  I  was  not 
able  to  see  much  of  what  they  did,  because  soon  after 
they  appeared  with  their  famous  knives  I  got  my 
wound. 

Some  of  the  most  exciting  and  dangerous  work  was 
done  at  night,  when  we  tried  to  get  at  the  Germans  with 
the  bayonet  and  rout  them  out  of  their  trenches  and 
positions.  We  had  to  do  everything  so  quietly — 
creep  out  of  the  forts,  creep  along  the  ground,  and 
creep  up  to  the  enemy  as  near  as  we  could  get,  and 
sometimes  that  was  not  very  close,  because  of  such 
things  as  barbed  wire  entanglements. 

These  entanglements  were  particularly  horrible, 
because  they  were  so  hard  to  overcome  and  tore  the 
flesh  and  clothing.  At  first  we  had  a  pretty  good  way 
of  destroying  them,  and  that  was  by  putting  the 
muzzles  of  our  rifles  on  the  wire  and  blowing  it  away ; 
but  there  were  two  serious  drawbacks  to  that  trick — 


80       SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

one  was  that  it  was  a  waste  of  ammunition,  and  the 
other  was  that  the  noise  of  the  firing  gave  us  away, 
and  let  the  Germans  loose  on  us  with  guns  and  rifles. 

We  soon  got  too  canny  to  go  on  with  that  practice, 
and  just  before  I  was  wounded  and  sent  home  a  very 
ingenious  arrangement  had  been  fixed  to  the  muzzle 
of  the  rifle  for  wire-cutting — a  pair  of  shears  which 
you  could  work  with  a  swivel  from  near  the  trigger, 
so  that  instead  of  putting  the  muzzle  of  the  rifle 
against  the  wire,  you  could  cut  it  by  using  the 
pliers. 

It  was  in  one  of  these  night  affairs  that  I  was  nearly 
finished  as  a  soldier.  I  was  ordered  to  join  a  recon- 
noitring party.  We  got  clear  of  the  fort,  and  made 
our  way  over  the  country  for  about  a  mile.  We  were 
then  in  a  field  which  had  been  harvested  and  harrowed, 
so  that  it  was  pretty  hard  ground  to  go  over.  In  spite 
of  it  all  we  were  getting  on  very  nicely  when  the  Ger- 
mans got  wind  of  our  movements  and  opened  a  terrible 
fire  with  rifles  and  maxims. 

We  lost  a  lot  of  men,  and  where  a  man  fell  there  he 
had  to  lie,  dead  or  living. 

Suddenly  I  fell  plump  on  the  ground,  and  found 
that  I  could  not  get  up  again,  though  I  did  my  best 
to  keep  up  with  my  chums.  Then  I  felt  an  awful 
pain  in  my  thigh  and  knew  that  I  was  hurt,  but  I  must 
have  been  struck  five  minutes  before  I  fell,  by  a  bullet 
from  a  German  rifle.  It  had  gone  clean  through  my 
right  thigh.  They  told  me  afterwards  that  I  had  had 
a  very  narrow  shave  indeed ;  but  a  miss  is  as  good  as 
a  mile. 

I  knew  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  pluck  and 
patience,  so  I  made  the  best  of  things,  and  waited  till 
the  day  broke  and  brought  the  battalion  stretcher- 


[To  face  p.  80. 
WE    FOUND    A   FAIR   LOT    OF   GERMANS    IN   HOUSES    AND    FARMS  "  (p.  72). 


BRITISH  FIGHTERS  IN  FRENCH  FORTS    81 

bearers,  who  always  came  out  just  about  dawn  to 
collect  the  wounded. 

I  was  lying  on  the  ground,  in  a  sort  of  ditch,  for  six 
hours  before  I  was  picked  up  by  the  stretcher-bearers 
and  carried  to  a  stable  which  was  being  used  as  a 
temporary  hospital. 

The  Germans  fired  on  the  wounded  as  they  were 
being  carried  off  in  the  grey  light,  but  they  didn't 
hit  me  again. 

I  lay  in  the  stable  for  about  eight  hours,  waiting 
for  the  ambulance,  which  took  me  to  the  railhead, 
and  then  I  was  put  in  a  train  and  taken  to  Rouen — 
and  that  travelling  was  simply  awful,  because  the 
French  trains  jolt  like  traction-engines. 

All  the  same,  I  had  a  pleasant  voyage  to  South- 
ampton, and  hoped  that  I  might  be  sent  to  a  hospital 
near  home,  but  I  was  too  ill  to  go  a  long  journey  to 
the  north,  so  I  was  taken  to  Woolwich,  and  afterwards 
sent  here,  to  the  Royal  Hospital  at  Richmond,  where 
everybody  is  kindness  itself,  and  can't  do  enough  for 
you,  it  seems. 

I've  had  a  month  in  bed,  so  far,  but  I'm  hoping  to 
be  out  of  it  soon  and  hobbling  about. 


CHAPTER  VII 

GERMAN  TREACHERY  AND  HATRED 

["  Die  hard,  my  men,  die  hard  !  "  shouted  the  heroic  Colonel 
Inglis,  when,  at  Albuhera,  in  the  Peninsular  War,  his  regiment, 
the  57th  Foot,  were  furiously  engaged  with  the  enemy.  And 
the  regiment  obeyed,  for  when  the  bloody  fight  was  ended 
twenty-two  out  of  twenty-five  officers  had  been  killed  or 
wounded,  425  of  570  rank  and  file  had  fallen  and  thirty  bullets 
had  riddled  the  King's  Colour.  The  57th  is  now  the  1st  Battalion 
Middlesex  Regiment,  but  the  regiment  is  still  best  known  by 
its  gallant  nickname  of  the  "Die-Hards."  It  has  suffered 
exceptional  losses  in  this  war,  and  the  story  of  some  of  its 
doings  is  told  by  Corporal  W.  Bratby,  who  relates  a  tale  which 
he  has  described  as  a  brother's  revenge.] 

THE  old  "  Die-Hards  "  went  into  action  at  Mons 
nearly  a  thousand  strong ;  but  when,  after  Mons  had 
been  left  behind,  a  roaring  furnace,  the  roll  was  called, 
not  more  than  270  of  us  were  left.  D  Company  came 
out  a  shattered  remnant — only  thirty-six  men,  and  no 
officers.  When  what  was  left  of  us  marched  away, 
other  regiments  were  shouting,  "  Three  cheers  for  the 
Die-Hards  !  "  And  three  rousing  cheers  they  gave; 
but  I  had  no  heart  for  them,  because  I  had  left  my 
younger  brother  Jack,  a  "  Die-Hard "  like  myself. 
They  told  me  that  he  had  been  killed  by  a  bursting 
shell  while  doing  his  duty  with  the  machine-gun 
section. 

I  did  not  say  much.  I  asked  the  adjutant  if  any 
of  the  machine-gun  section  had  returned,  and  he 
answered  sadly,  "  No,  they've  all  gone." 

82 


GERMAN  TREACHERY  AND  HATRED  83 

Jack  and  I  were  brothers  and  had  been  good  old 
chums  all  our  lives — I  had  taught  him  a  bit  of  boxing 
and  he  was  most  promising  with  the  gloves,  and  we 
had  a  widowed  mother  to  keep ;  so  I  really  felt  as  if 
something  had  gone  snap  in  my  head  and  that  all  I 
cared  for  was  to  get  my  revenge  from  the  Germans. 
The  last  words  I  heard  him  say  were,  "  Well,  Bill, 
I'm  going  right  into  the  firing  line,"  and  I  remember 
laughing  and  saying,  "  Yes,  Jack,  but  you're  not  the 
only  one  who's  going  to  do  that." 

Jack  laughed  too  and  said,  "  All  right,  Bill,  I'll 
see  you  in  the  firing  line,"  and  with  that  he  went 
and  I  saw  no  more  of  him. 

I  had  been  in  the  regiment  five  years  and  nine 
months  when  the  war  broke  out  and  Jack  had  served 
more  than  two  years.  I  had  become  a  corporal  and 
he  was  a  lance-corporal. 

The  days  in  the  beginning  were  swelteringly  hot; 
but  the  "  Die-Hards,"  being  typical  Cockneys,  made 
the  best  of  them.  Our  Brigade  consisted  of  our- 
selves (the  4th  Middlesex),  the  2nd  Royal  Scots,  the 
1st  Gordon  Highlanders  and  the  2nd  Royal  Irish 
Rifles.  We  began  operations  with  trench  digging, 
one  particular  trench,  the  machine-gun  trench,  being 
allotted  to  B  Company.  I  helped  to  superintend 
the  construction  of  the  trenches,  and  I  was  proud 
of  the  work  when  I  saw  what  was  done  from  them 
when  the  Germans  showed  themselves. 

Our  machine-gun  caused  enormous  havoc  amongst 
the  German  ranks,  and  I  am  sure  that  my  brother 
did  his  part  in  settling  a  lot  of  them,  for  he  was  keen 
on  his  work  and  full  of  go.  The  Royal  Irish  at  this 
stage  were  doing  splendidly — they  were  not  more 
than  350  yards  from  the  enemy,  separated  from  them 


84      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF   THE    WAR 

by  a  railway — and  they  were  lucky  enough  to  fetch 
one  gun  out  of  action  again,  but  the  enormously 
superior  numbers  of  the  Germans  told  and  the  famous 
retreat  began.  The  machine-gunners  had  suffered 
very  heavily  and  it  was  hard  to  learn  anything 
definite  about  the  position  in  the  trenches. 

Officers  and  men  were  falling  everywhere  on  both 
sides,  and  I  saw  a  reconnoitring  patrol  of  Uhlans 
bowled  over  in  trying  to  avoid  some  of  the  4th  Royal 
Fusiliers.  An  officer  and  seven  men  of  the  Uhlans 
were  killed  in  that  little  affair  without  getting  in  a 
shot  in  return.  It  was  not  much,  but  it  was  something 
cheering  after  what  we  had  gone  through  at  Mons. 
We  looked  upon  it  as  a  bit  of  sport,  and  after  that 
we  went  into  chateaux,  cafes  and  other  places,  and 
discussed  affairs  in  a  proper  Tommy -like  spirit.  It  is 
very  strange,  but  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  language 
I  could  have  thought  at  times  that  I  was  back  in 
Kilburn  or  in  London,  on  strike  duty  again,  as  I  was 
at  the  time  of  the  railway  trouble  three  years  ago. 

We  were  fighting  a  rearguard  action  for  three  days 
right  off  the  reel,  and  doing  that  wonderful  march  to 
which  "  Kitchener's  test  "  or  anything  like  it  was  a 
mere  nothing.  Owing  to  the  heat,  we  discarded 
overcoats,  kits  and  in  some  cases  rifles  and  equipment. 
Our  transport  was  blown  to  pieces  three  days  after 
Mons,  which  to  the  8th  Brigade  is  known  as  the 
Wednesday. 

But  lost  kit  and  shattered  transport  mattered 
little  to  most  of  us,  and  certainly  had  slight  significance 
for  me,  because  the  only  thing  I  had  in  mind  was 
this  determination  to  get  revenge.  I  am  not  exag- 
gerating in  the  least,  I  am  merely  putting  down  on 
record  the  state  of  my  feelings  and  wishing  to  make 


GERMAN  TREACHERY  AND  HATRED  85 

you  understand  how  remarkable  a  change  had  come 
over  me,  an  alteration  such  as  is  brought  about,  I 
take  it,  by  war,  and  war  alone.  Perhaps,  too,  the 
excessive  stress  and  strain  of  those  early  days  of  the 
war  had  something  to  do  with  my  condition;  but 
whatever  the  cause,  there  it  was.  Danger  itself 
meant  nothing,  and  I,  like  the  rest  of  us,  took  the 
ordinary  fighting  and  the  incessant  and  truly  horrible 
shell  fire  as  a  matter  of  course,  a  part  of  the  day's 
work.  I  bided  my  time,  and  it  came. 

We  had  crossed  the  Aisne,  a  dangerous  unit  still, 
in  spite  of  our  losses,  for  we  had  received  reinforce- 
ments from  the  base;  but  just  before  crossing  the 
river  we  sat  down  on  the  road,  waiting  for  a  favourable 
opportunity  to  cross  by  a  pontoon  bridge  which  the 
Engineers  were  building.  That  pontoon  replaced  a 
bridge  which  had  been  blown  up. 

On  the  word  "  Rise  "  we  fell  in,  and  in  doing  so  a 
man  had  the  misfortune  to  shoot  himself  through 
the  hand. 

The  colonel  came  up  at  once  and  ordered  the  injured 
man  to  go  back  to  the  hospital  in  a  village  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  up  the  road,  in  rear  of  the  bridge.  I 
was  told  off  to  take  him,  and  we  went  to  a  house  that 
had  been  turned  into  a  hospital,  the  people  in  it  being 
typically  French.  There  were  some  sad  cases  there, 
amongst  them  one  of  our  own  fellows  who  had  been 
severely  wounded  and  a  trooper  of  the  4th  Hussars 
who  was  the  only  survivor  of  a  reconnoitring  party. 
He  had  been  shot  while  going  through  the  village 
that  morning.  Just  at  that  time  we  had  had  many 
losses  of  small  bodies — in  one  case  a  sergeant  and  five 
men  had  been  blown  to  pieces. 

After  I  had  got  the  wounded  man  into  the  hospital 


86      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

I  asked  the  "  monsieur  "  in  charge  of  the  house  for 
some  tea,  which  he  very  willingly  produced — it  had 
no  milk  in  it,  of  course,  but  by  that  time  I  had  almost 
forgotten  that  milk  existed. 

At  this  time  the  village  was  being  shelled,  but  that 
did  not  affect  the  enjoyment  of  my  tea-drinking, 
and  after  that  refreshing  draught  and  a  chunk  of 
"  bully  "  and  some  biscuit  crumbs  which  I  found  in 
the  corner  of  a  none -too -clean  haversack,  I  "  packed 
down  "  for  the  night. 

At  about  four  o'clock  next  morning  I  awoke  and 
went  back  to  the  bridge,  which  my  battalion  had 
crossed  on  the  previous  day,  the  "  Die-hards  "  being 
the  first  to  have  the  honour  to  cross.  By  this  time 
we  had  got  past  the  sweltering  stage  of  things  and 
had  become  accustomed  to  soaking  weather,  and  on 
this  particular  morning  I  was  thoroughly  cold  and 
wet  and  generally  "  fed  up  "  with  things ;  but  I  still 
glowed  with  the  longing  to  get  level  with  the  Germans. 

You  must  bear  in  mind  that  regiments  had  been 
broken  up  and  scattered  in  the  most  astonishing 
manner  and  had  become  mixed  up  with  other  regi- 
ments, and  I  had  lost  my  own  and  had  to  set  to  work 
to  find  it. 

I  got  over  the  bridge  and  reached  some  artillery. 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  the  Middlesex?" 
I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  the  gunners  answered,  "  they've  just  gone 
into  action  on  the  brow  of  the  hill." 

I  made  my  way  towards  the  top  of  a  neighbouring 
hill  and  found  that  my  battalion  had  taken  up  a 
position  there,  but  I  had  to  wander  about  aimlessly, 
and  I  did  so  till  I  came  across  one  or  two  men  who 
were  separated  from  the  battalion.  They  directed 


GERMAN  TREACHERY  AND  HATRED  87 

me  to  the  actual  position,  which  was  on  the  ridge  of 
the  hill,  and  to  the  ridge  I  went  and  found  that  it  was 
lined  with  remnants  of  the  brigade. 

I  tried  to  find  my  own  company,  but  could  not  do 
so,  as  it  had  been  surprised  in  the  night ;  so  I  attached 
myself  to  another  and  lay  down  with  the  corporal 
on  the  sodden  ground. 

Wet  through,  cold,  hungry  and  physically  miserable, 
but  still  tough  in  spirit,  we  lay  there,  wishing  that 
all  sorts  of  impossible  things  would  happen. 

The  corporal  showed  me  where  he  had  hit  a 
German  scout.  We  watched  the  poor  devil  rolling 
about — then  we  finished  him  off. 

In  addition  to  the  wet  there  was  a  fog,  and  under 
cover  of  this  the  Germans  crept  up  and  were  on  us 
almost  before  we  knew  of  their  presence. 

The  alarm  was  first  given  by  a  man  near  us  who  was 
suffering  from  ague  or  some  such  ailment  and  had 
been  moaning  and  groaning  a  good  deal. 

Suddenly  he  cried,  "  Here  they  are,  corporal  !  Fire 
at  'em  !  " 

My  loaded  rifle  was  lying  just  in  front  of  me.  I 
snatched  it  up,  and  as  I  did  so  the  Germans  jumped 
out  of  the  mist  on  to  us,  with  loud  shouts.  I  brought 
the  first  German  down  and  my  chum  dropped  one ; 
and  we  managed  to  fetch  the  officer  down.  He  was 
carrying  a  revolver  and  a  stick,  like  most  German 
officers,  so  that  you  had  no  difficulty  in  distinguishing 
them. 

When  the  alarm  was  given  I  gave  a  quick  look  over 
a  small  hump  in  the  ground  and  then  we  were  rushed  ; 
but  I  hated  the  idea  of  retiring,  and  kept  on  shouting, 
"  Crawl  back  !  Crawl  back  !  " 

Machine-guns  and  rifles  were  rattling  and  men  were 


88      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

shouting  and  cursing.  In  the  midst  of  it  all  I  was 
sane  enough  to  hang  on  to  my  fire  till  I  got  a  good 
chance — and  I  did  not  wait  for  nothing. 

Up  came  two  Germans  with  a  stretcher.  They 
advanced  till  they  were  not  more  than  twenty-five 
yards  away,  for  I  could  see  their  faces  quite  clearly ; 
then  I  took  aim,  and  down  went  one  of  the  pair  and 
"  bang  "  off  the  stretcher  fell  a  maxim.  The  second 
German  seemed  to  hesitate,  but  before  he  could  pull 
himself  together  he  had  gone  down  too.  I  began  to 
feel  satisfied. 

By  this  time  the  order  to  retire  had  been  given  and 
I  kept  on  shouting,  "  Keep  down !  Crawl  back  !  " 
and  the  lads  crawled  and  jumped  with  curious  laughs 
and  curses. 

In  that  excited  retirement  the  man  who  was  with 
me  was  shot  in  the  chest.  I  halted  for  a  little  while 
to  see  what  had  really  happened  to  him,  and  finding 
that  he  was  killed  I  took  his  waterproof  sheet  and 
left  him.  I  hurried  on  until  I  was  in  a  valley,  well 
away  from  the  ridge ;  then  an  officer  managed  to  get 
us  together  and  lead  us  into  a  wood. 

As  we  got  into  the  wood  I  spotted  a  quarry.  I 
said  to  the  officer,  "  Is  it  best  to  go  down  here,  sir  ?  " 

"  I'll  have  a  look — yes,"  he  answered. 

We  went  into  the  quarry,  where  there  were  Royal 
Scots,  Middlesex,  Gordons  and  Royal  Irish. 

The  officer  was  afraid  that  we  might  be  rushed,  in 
which  case  we  should  be  cut  up,  so  he  put  a  man  out 
on  scout.  We  were  not  rushed,  however,  and  when 
the  firing  ceased  we  filed  out  and  lined  the  ridge  again, 
and  there  we  lay,  expecting  the  Germans  to  come 
back,  but  for  the  time  being  we  saw  no  more  of 
them. 


GERMAN  TREACHERY  AND  HATRED  89 

By  some  means  one  of  the  Irishmen  had  got  drunk 
and  wanted  to  fight  the  Germans  "  on  his  own."  He 
was  shouting  for  them  to  come  on  and  was  wandering 
about.  Soon  afterwards  he  was  found  lying  on  the 
top  of  the  hill,  having  been  shot  in  the  thigh.  He 
was  carried  out  of  action  and  I  have  never  heard  of 
him  since. 

After  that  affair  of  the  hill-crest  we  had  a  lot  of 
trench  work,  and  very  harassing  it  was.  For  five 
days  we  stayed  in  trenches,  so  near  to  the  enemy  that 
it  was  death  to  show  your  head. 

Trench  fighting  is  one  of  the  most  terrible  features 
of  the  war,  for  not  only  is  there  the  constant  peril 
of  instant  death,  which,  of  course,  every  soldier  gets 
accustomed  to,  but  there  is  also  the  extreme  discom- 
fort and  danger  of  illness  arising  from  insanitary  sur- 
roundings. Often  enough,  too,  when  a  new  trench 
was  being  dug  we  would  find  that  we  were  working 
on  ground  that  had  been  previously  occupied,  and  the 
spades  brought  up  many  a  ghastly  reminder  of  an 
earlier  fight. 

Sometimes  in  this  wonderful  warfare  we  were  so  very 
close  to  the  Germans  that  when  we  sang  hymns — and 
many  a  hymn  that  a  soldier  has  sung  at  his  mother's 
knee  has  gone  up  from  the  trenches  from  many  a 
brave  lad  who  has  given  his  life  for  his  country — the 
Germans  would  harmonise  with  them.  It  was 
strange  to  hear  these  men  singing  like  that  and  to 
bear  in  mind  that  they  were  the  soldiers  who  had  done 
such  monstrous  things  as  we  saw  during  the  retreat, 
when  they  thought  that  certain  victory  was  theirs. 
Time  after  time,  with  my  own  eyes,  I  saw  evidence  of 
the  brutal  outrages  of  the  German  troops,  especially 
on  women  and  children,  yet  it  seems  hard  to  convince 


90      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

some  of  the  people  at  home  that  these  things  have 
been  done. 

At  one  time  in  the  trenches,  for  a  whole  week,  we 
were  so  situated  that  we  dare  not  even  speak  for  fear 
of  revealing  our  position — we  were  subjected  to  an 
enfilade  fire  and  did  not  dare  to  speak  or  light  a  fire, 
which  meant  that  we  had  no  hot  food  for  a  week,  and 
we  could  not  even  smoke,  which  was  the  biggest 
hardship  of  all  for  a  lot  of  the  lads.  We  were  thank- 
ful when  we  were  relieved;  but  were  sorry  indeed  to 
find  how  dearly  the  newcomers  paid  for  their  experi- 
ence. We  had  been  cramped  and  uncomfortable,  but 
pretty  safe,  and  the  Germans  had  not  been  able  to  get 
at  us  to  do  us  any  real  mischief,  but  our  reliefs  walked 
about  as  unconcernedly  as  if  they  were  on  furlough, 
with  the  result  that  on  the  very  first  night  they  went 
into  action  they  lost  a  hundred  men. 

The  system  of  trenches  grew  into  a  sort  of  enormous 
gridiron,  and  if  you  walked  about — which  you  could 
only  attempt  to  do  at  night — you  were  almost  certain 
to  drop  into  a  trench  or  a  hole  of  some  sort.  This 
made  getting  about  a  very  exciting  job,  and  it  added 
enormously  to  the  intense  strain  of  fighting  in  the 
trenches,  a  strain  which  was  hardest  to  bear  in  the 
night-time,  when  we  were  constantly  expecting  attacks 
and  when  the  Germans  adopted  all  kinds  of  devices 
to  get  at  us. 

The  Germans  are  what  we  call  dirty  fighters,  and 
they  will  take  advantage  of  anything  to  try  and  score 
over  you.  They  have  no  respect  for  anything  and 
made  a  particular  point  in  many  of  the  places  they 
overran  of  desecrating  the  churches.  They  never 
hesitated  to  turn  a  place  of  worship  into  a  scene  for 
an  orgy,  and  I  remember  going  into  one  church  after 


GERMAN  TREACHERY  AND  HATRED  91 

the  Germans  had  occupied  it  and  being  shocked  at 
their  conduct.  In  this  particular  place  they  had  been 
able  to  lay  hands  on  a  good  deal  of  champagne  and 
they  had  drunk  to  excess,  turning  the  church  into  a 
drinking-place,  so  that  when  we  reached  it  there  was 
an  indescribable  scene — filthy  straw  on  the  floor, 
empty  champagne  bottles  littered  everywhere,  and 
the  whole  building  degraded  and  desecrated. 

The  Germans  had  got  a  French  uniform  and  stuffed 
it  with  straw  and  propped  it  up  to  resemble  a  man, 
and  on  the  uniform  they  had  stuck  a  piece  of  paper 
with  some  writing  on  it  in  German.  I  do  not  know 
what  the  writing  was,  but  I  took  it  to  be  some  insult 
to  the  brave  men  who  were  defending  their  country 
and  preventing  the  Germans  from  getting  anywhere 
near  Paris.  I  could  tell  you  much  more  and  many 
things  of  the  Germans'  dirty  fighting,  and  of  things 
that  were  far  worse  than  such  an  incident  as  turning 
a  church  into  a  drinking-place;  but  perhaps  enough 
has  been  said  on  that  point  of  late. 

But  that  dirty  fighting  does  not  mean  that  the 
Germans  do  not  fight  bravely — far  from  it ;  they  are 
hard  cases,  especially  when  they  are  in  overwhelming 
numbers,  which  is  the  form  of  fighting  that  they  like 
best  of  all.  They  are  great  believers  in  weight  and 
hurling  masses  of  men  at  a  given  point,  and  they  are 
absolutely  mad  at  times  when  their  opponents  are 
the  English. 

I  will  tell  you  of  a  case  which  illustrates  this  par- 
ticular hatred.  One  night  we  were  attacked  by  the 
Germans,  though  there  was  but  little  hope  of  them 
doing  anything  serious,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  we 
were  in  trenches  and  that  there  were  the  barbed  wire 
entanglements  everywhere.  There  had  been  no  sign 


92       SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

of  an  attack,  but  in  the  middle  of  the  night  a  furious 
assault  was  made  upon  us  and  a  young  German  by 
some  extraordinary  means  managed  to  get  through 
the  entanglements.  An  officer  of  the  Buffs  was  near 
us,  and  in  some  way  which  I  cannot  explain  the 
German  managed  to  reach  him.  With  a  fierce  cry  he 
sprang  directly  at  the  officer,  put  an  arm  round  his 
neck,  and  with  the  revolver  which  he  held  in  the 
other  hand  shot  him. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  moment;  but  it  succeeded — 
so  did  our  bayonet  attack  on  the  German,  for  almost 
as  soon  as  his  shot  had  rung  out  in  the  night  a  dozen 
bayonets  had  pierced  him.  He  died  very  quickly, 
but  not  before  he  had  managed  to  show  how  intensely 
he  hated  all  the  English.  He  was  a  fine  young  fellow, 
not  more  than  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  old,  and 
it  was  impossible  not  to  admire  the  courage  and  clever- 
ness he  had  shown  in  getting  through  the  awful  barbed 
wire  entanglements  and  hurling  himself  upon  us  in 
the  trenches  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  The  point 
that  puzzles  me  even  now,  when  I  recall  the  incident, 
is  how  the  young  German  managed  to  make  such 
a  clean  jump  for  the  officer.  I  daresay  there  was 
something  more  than  luck  in  it. 

At  this  time  we  were  with  the  Buffs,  who  told  us 
that  they  were  being  badly  troubled  by  snipers.  I 
was  in  a  trench  with  Lieutenant  Cole,  who  was  after- 
wards killed,  and  he  said  to  me,  "  Corporal,  the 
snipers  are  worrying  our  people,  but  it's  very  difficult 
to  locate  them.  Try  and  see  what  you  can  make 
out  of  it." 

It  was  very  difficult,  but  I  set  to  work  to  try  and 
make  something  out.  Before  long,  with  the  help 
of  the  glasses,  I  concluded  that  the  sniping  came  from 


GERMAN  TREACHERY  AND  HATRED  93 

a  wood  not  far-away,  and  I  told  the  officer  that  I 
thought  they  were  in  a  tree  there.  The  consequence 
was  that  a  platoon  loaded  up,  went  round,  concen- 
trated their  fire  on  this  particular  spot  and  brought 
down  two  German  roosters  from  a  tree.  We  were  glad 
to  be  rid  of  the  pests,  and  they  ought  to  have  been 
satisfied,  for  they  had  had  a  very  good  innings. 

I  have  been  telling  about  the  determination  I  had 
to  be  revenged  for  my  brother's  death.  That  was  my 
great  object,  and  I  kept  it  in  mind  before  anything 
else — and  I  think  I  carried  it  out.  Apart  from  any 
motive,  it  is  the  British  soldier's  duty  to  do  everything 
he  can  to  settle  the  enemy,  especially  the  Germans, 
and  I  am  glad  that  I  did  my  bit  in  this  respect. 

Now  listen  to  what  has  really  happened.  After 
all  that  fighting  and  suffering  with  the  grand  old 
44  Die-Hards  "  I  got  my  own  turn,  after  many  wonder- 
ful escapes.  A  shell  burst  near  me  and  the  frag- 
ments peppered  me  on  the,  right  hand  here  and  about 
this  side  of  the  body,  and  bowled  me  out  for  the  time 
being.  I  was  sent  home,  and  here  I  am  in  London 
again,  getting  well  and  expecting  the  call  to  come  at 
any  time  to  go  back  to  the  front.  When  it  comes  I 
shall  be  ready  to  obey. 

Look  at  this  postcard.  It  is  written,  as  you  see, 
by  a  British  soldier  who  is  a  prisoner  of  war  in 
Germany,  and  it  tells  the  glad  news  that  my  brother, 
who,  I  was  told,  was  killed  months  ago  by  a  bursting 
shell,  is  not  dead,  but  is  alive  and  well,  although  he 
is  a  prisoner  of  war. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LIFE    IN    THE    TRENCHES 

[The  winter  of  the  war  was  marked  by  an  abnormal  rainfall 
and  storms  of  uncommon  severity :  also  by  the  extraordinary 
development  of  trench  warfare.  The  rain  and  storms,  the 
frost  and  snow,  made  it  impossible  to  carry  out  the  greater 
operations  of  campaigning,  with  the  result  that  both  sides 
dug  themselves  in  and  fought  from  rival  trenches  which  in 
many  cases  were  separated  by  only  a  few  yards.  This  story 
deals  with  life  in  the  trenches,  at  La  Bassee,  and  it  gives  a 
wonderful  understanding  of  the  privations  that  have  been 
uncomplainingly  borne  by  British  soldiers.  The  teller  is 
Private  G.  Townsend,  2nd  Battalion  East  Lancashire  Regiment, 
who  has  had  more  than  six  years'  service  with  the  colours. 
These  long-service  men  have  compelled  the  attention  of  even 
the  Germans  who  despised  the  "  contemptible  little  army,'* 
for  they  have  admitted  that  the  seasoned  British  private  soldier 
is  the  equal  of  a  German  non-commissioned  officer.] 

WHEN  the  rebellion  broke  out  in  South  Africa  we — 
the  old  "  Lily  Whites "  —were  the  only  imperial 
regiment  kept  in  that  country.  We  were  sitting  still 
and  stiff  for  twenty  days,  till  General  Botha  got  his 
own  troops  ready.  During  that  time  we  were  guard- 
ing Cape  Town,  and  it  took  us  all  we  knew  to  hold 
in,  because  the  big  war  was  on,  and  we  were  about 
seven  thousand  miles  away  from  the  seat  of  it.  We 
had  to  wait  till  General  Botha  was  ready,  and  that 
was  not  for  more  than  a  month  after  the  British 
and  the  Germans  met  in  Belgium. 

We  were  eager  to  get  away  from  South  Africa, 

94 


LIFE  IN  THE  TRENCHES  95 

and  at  last  we  sailed — but  what  a  slow  voyage  it 
was  !  Almost  a  record,  I  should  think.  We  were 
thirty-two  days  getting  to  Southampton;  but  that 
was  because  we  had  halts  on  the  way  and  were 
convoyed  by  some  of  the  British  warships  which 
have  worked  such  marvels  in  this  war.  We  had  with 
us  a  noble  cruiser  which  on  a  later  day,  though  we 
thought  her  slow,  knocked  more  speed  out  of  herself 
than  the  builders  ever  dreamed  of,  and  that  was 
when  she  helped  to  sink  the  German  warships  off 
the  Falkland  Islands. 

By  the  time  we  reached  the  south  of  England  some 
big  things  had  happened,  and  we  were  keener  than 
ever  to  get  to  the  front.  We  had  not  long  to  wait. 
We  landed,  and  in  less  than  a  week  we  left  England 
and  crossed  over  to  France,  where  we  went  into 
billets  for  four  days,  to  settle  down.  From  the  billets 
we  marched  nearly  seven  miles  and  went  into  trenches. 
For  three  full  months,  in  the  worst  time  of  a  very 
bad  year,  I  ate  and  drank,  and  slept  and  fought,  in 
trenches,  with  intervals  in  billets,  sometimes  up  to 
the  hips  in  water  and  often  enough  sleeping  on  a 
thick  couch  of  mud.  I  cannot  go  into  too  much 
detail,  but  I  can  say  that  our  officers  always  tried  to 
go  one  better  than  the  Germans,  for  the  sake  of  the 
men — and  for  the  most  part  they  succeeded.  We 
have  picked  up  a  lot  from  the  Germans  in  this  trench 
game.  They  have  a  main  trench  and  about  four 
trenches  behind  that,  the  first  of  the  four  being  about 
twenty  yards  away;  so  that  if  you  knock  them  out 
of  one  you  knock  them  into  another. 

That  march  to  the  trenches  was  a  thing  that  can 
never  be  forgotten.  It  was  very  dark  and  raining 
heavily,  so  that  we  were  thoroughly  soaked;  but 


96      SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

we  had  no  time  to  think  of  that,  for  we  were  bound 
for  the  firing  line,  we  were  going  to  fight  for  the  first 
time,  and  we  wondered  who  amongst  us  would  be 
absent  when  the  next  roll  was  called.  The  trench 
to  which  we  were  bound  was  in  its  little  way  famous. 
It  had  been  the  scene  of  some  terrible  fighting.  The 
Indian  troops  were  holding  it,  but  they  had  been 
driven  out  by  the  Germans,  who  took  possession  and 
thought  they  were  going  to  hold  it;  but  the  Con- 
naught  Rangers  made  a  desperate  charge,  routed  the 
Germans  with  the  bayonet  and  retook  the  trenches. 
The  Connaughts  won,  but  at  a  very  heavy  cost,  and 
about  150  of  the  brave  fellows  fell  and  were  buried 
near  the  little  bit  of  sodden,  muddy  ground  on  which 
they  had  fought.  It  was  to  relieve  the  Connaughts 
that  we  went  into  the  trenches  on  La  Bassee  Road 
that  stormy  night. 

It  was  not  a  very  cheerful  beginning,  and  as  much 
unlike  going  into  action  as  anything  you  can  imagine. 
But  we  felt  queer,  this  being  our  first  taste  of  fight- 
ing, as  we  slipped  into  the  trenches  with  our  rifles 
loaded  and  prepared  to  fire  in  the  wild  night  at  an 
enemy  we  could  not  see.  As  soon  as  we  went  into 
the  trenches  we  were  ankle-deep  in  mud,  and  we 
were  in  mud,  day  and  night,  for  seventy-two  hours 
without  a  break.  That  was  the  beginning  of  three 
solid  months  of  a  sort  of  animal  life  in  trenches  and 
dug-outs,  with  occasional  breaks  for  the  change  and 
rest  in  billets  without  which  it  would  not  be  possible 
to  live. 

In  a  storm-swept  trench — a  barricade  trench  we 
called  it — pointing  my  rifle  at  an  enemy  I  could  not 
see,  I  fired  my  first  shot  in  battle.  My  section  of 
thirteen  men  was  in  the  trench  which  was  nearest 


LIFE   IN   THE  TRENCHES  97 

to  the  Germans,  and  that  meant  that  we  were  separated 
from  them  by  only  a  very  few  dozen  yards.  An 
officer  of  the  Connaughts  had  given  a  descriptive 
object  to  fire  at,  and  this  was  a  small  white  outhouse 
which  could  be  dimly  made  out  in  the  darkness.  The 
outhouse  had  the  German  trenches  just  in  front  of  it, 
and  we  made  a  target  of  the  building  in  the  hope  of 
potting  the  men  in  the  trenches. 

The  order  came,  one  man  up  and  one  man  down, 
which  meant  that  a  man  who  was  firing  was  standing 
for  two  hours  and  the  man  who  was  down  was 
sitting  or  otherwise  resting,  or  observing,  as  we 
call  it. 

Throughout  that  long  night  we  kept  up  fire  from 
the  trenches,  all  anxious  for  the  day  to  break,  so 
that  we  could  see  what  sort  of  a  place  we  were  in 
and  what  we  were  doing;  but  when  the  melancholy 
morning  broke  there  was  nothing  to  see  in  front  of 
us  except  the  portholes  of  the  German  trenches. 

We  had  got  through  the  first  night  of  battle  safely 
and  had  given  the  Germans  good-morning  with  what 
we  came  to  call  the  "  awaking  fire,"  though  it  sent 
many  a  man  to  sleep  for  the  last  time — and  we  were 
settling  down  to  make  some  tea.  That  was  shortly 
after  midday  of  our  first  day  in  the  trenches.  I  was 
working  "  partners  "  with  my  left-hand  man,  Private 
Smith,  who  said,  "  I'll  just  have  a  look  to  see  what's 
going  on." 

He  popped  his  head  over  the  top  of  the  trench 'and 
almost  instantly  he  fell  into  my  arms,  for  he  had 
been  shot — there  must  have  been  a  sniper  waiting 
for  him — and  had  received  what  proved  to  be  a  most 
extraordinary  wound.  A  bullet  had  struck  him  on 
the  side  of  the  head,  just  below  the  ear,  and  gone  clean 
H 


98      SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE  WAR 

through  and  out  at  the  other  side,  leaving  a  hole  on 
each  side. 

"  I'm  hit !  "  said  Smith,  as  he  fell— that  was  all. 

I  was  badly  upset,  as  this  was  the  first  man  I  had 
seen  shot,  and  being  my  special  chum  it  came  home 
to  me ;  but  I  didn't  let  that  prevent  me  from  doing 
my  best  for  him.  Smith  was  quite  conscious,  and  a 
plucky  chap,  and  he  knew  that  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  see  it  through  till  night  came.  We 
bandaged  him  up  as  best  we  could  and  he  had  to  lie 
there,  in  the  mud  and  water  and  misery,  till  it  was 
dark,  then  he  was  able  to  walk  away  from  the  trench 
to  the  nearest  first-aid  station,  where  the  doctor 
complimented  him  on  his  courage  and  told  him  what 
an  extraordinary  case  it  was  and  what  a  miraculous 
escape  he  had  had.  Later  on  Smith  was  invalided 
home. 

During  the  whole  of  that  first  spell  in  trenches  we 
had  no  water  to  drink  except  what  we  fetched  from  a 
natural  trench  half-a-mile  away.  Men  volunteered 
for  this  duty,  which  was  very  dangerous,  as  it  meant 
hurrying  over  open  ground,  and  the  man  who  was 
fetching  the  water  was  under  fire  all  the  time,  both 
going  and  coming,  if  the  Germans  saw  him.  This 
job  was  usually  carried  out  a  little  before  daybreak, 
when  there  was  just  light  enough  for  the  man  to 
see,  and  not  enough  for  the  Germans  to  spot  him; 
and  a  chap  was  always  thankful  when  he  was  safely 
back  in  the  trench  and  under  cover. 

At  the  end  of  the  seventy-two  hours  we  left  the 
trenches.  We  came  out  at  ten  o'clock  at  night, 
expecting  to  be  out  for  three  days.  We  marched  to 
an  old  barn  which  had  been  pretty  well  blown  to 
pieces  by  shells,  and  into  it  we  went;  but  it  was  no 


LIFE   IN   THE   TRENCHES  99 

better  than  the  trenches.  The  rain  poured  on  to  us 
through  the  shattered  roof  and  it  was  bitterly  cold, 
so  that  I  could  not  sleep.  We  had  everything  on,  so 
as  to  be  ready  for  a  call  instantly,  and  without  so 
much  as  a  blanket  I  was  thoroughly  miserable.  In- 
stead of  having  three  days  off  we  were  ordered  to  go 
into  a  fresh  lot  of  trenches,  and  next  afternoon  we 
marched  into  them  and  there  we  stayed  for  six 
weeks,  coming  out  seven  or  eight  times.  In  these 
trenches  we  were  in  dug-outs,  so  that  we  got  a 
change  from  standing  sometimes  hip-deep  in  mud 
and  water  by  getting  into  the  dug-out  and  resting 
there.  A  dug-out  was  simply  a  hole  made  in  the 
side  of  the  trench,  high  enough  to  be  fairly  dry  and 
comfortable. 

During  the  whole  of  these  six  weeks  it  meant 
practically  death  to  show  yourself,  and  so  merciless 
was  the  fire  that  for  the  whole  of  the  time  a  dead 
German  soldier  was  lying  on  the  ground  about  a 
hundred  yards  away  from  us.  He  was  there  when 
we  went  and  was  still  there  when  we  left.  We  could 
not  send  out  a  party  to  bury  him  and  the  Germans 
themselves  never  troubled  about  the  poor  beggar. 
One  day  a  chum  of  mine,  named  Tobin,  was  on  the 
look-out  when  his  rifle  suddenly  cracked,  and  he 
turned  round  and  said,  "  I've  hit  one."  And  so  he 
had,  for  he  had  knocked  a  German  over  not  far  away 
and  no  doubt  killed  him. 

What  with  the  weather  and  the  mud  and  the 
constant  firing  we  had  a  very  bad  time.  Each  night 
we  had  four  hours'  digging,  which  was  excessively 
hard  work,  and  if  we  were  not  digging  we  were  fetching 
rations  in  for  the  company.  These  rations  had  to 
be  fetched  at  night  from  carts  three-quarters  of  a 


100     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

mile  away,  which  was  the  nearest  the  drivers  dare 
bring  them.  These  expeditions  were  always  interest- 
ing, because  we  never  knew  what  we  were  going  to 
get — sometimes  it  would  be  a  fifty-pound  tin  of 
biscuits  and  sometimes  a  bag  of  letters  or  a  lot  of 
cigarettes,  but  whatever  it  was  we  took  it  to  our 
dug-outs,  just  as  animals  take  food  to  their  holes, 
and  the  things  were  issued  next  morning. 

One  way  and  another  we  had  between  fifty  and 
sixty  men  wounded  in  our  own  particular  trenches, 
mostly  by  rifle  fire,  though  occasionally  a  shell  would 
burst  near  us  and  do  a  lot  of  mischief;  and  what 
was  happening  in  our  own  trenches  was  taking  place 
all  around  La  Bassee.  We  should  have  suffered 
much  more  heavily  if  we  had  not  been  provided 
with  periscopes,  which  have  saved  many  a  precious 
life  and  limb. 

We  paid  very  little  attention  to  the  German  shell 
fire,  and  as  for  the  "  Jack  Johnsons  "  we  took  them 
as  much  as  a  matter  of  course  as  we  took  our  break- 
fast. Some  of  the  German  artillery  fire  actually 
amused  us,  and  this  was  when  they  got  their  mortars 
to  work.  We  could  see  the  shot  coming  and  often 
enough  could  dodge  it,  though  frequently  the  great 
fat  thing  would  drive  into  the  ground  and  smother 
us  with  mud.  For  some  of  the  German  artillery  fire 
we  were  really  very  thankful,  because  in  their  rage 
they  were  smashing  up  some  farm  buildings  not  far 
away  from  us.  The  cause  of  our  gratitude  was  that 
this  shelling  saved  us  the  trouble  of  cutting  down 
and  chopping  firewood  for  warmth  and  cooking  in 
the  trenches.  When  night  came  we  simply  went  to 
the  farmhouse,  and  the  firewood,  in  the  shape  of 
shattered  doors  and  beams  and  furniture,  was  waiting 


LIFE   IN  THE  TRENCHES;/  /  j     101 

for  us.  The  farm  people  had  left,  so  we  were  able 
to  help  ourselves  to  chickens,  which  we  did,  and  a 
glorious  change  they  were  on  the  everlasting  bully 
beef.  A  chicken  doesn't  go  very  far  with  hungry 
soldiers,  and  on  one  occasion  we  had  a  chicken  apiece, 
and  remarkably  .good  they  were  too,  roasted  in  the 
trenches.  Another  great  time  was  when  we  caught 
a  little  pig  at  the  farm  and  killed  it  and  took  it  to 
the  trenches,  where  we  cooked  it. 

When  we  had  finished  with  the  second  lot  of 
trenches  we  went  into  a  third  set,  and  I  was  there 
till  I  was  wounded  and  sent  home.  These  trenches 
were  only  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  yards  from 
the  second  lot,  so  that  the  whole  of  the  three  months 
I  spent  in  .trenches  was  passed  in  a  very  little  area 
of  ground,  an  experience  which  is  so  totally  different 
from  that  of  so  many  of  our  soldiers  who  were  out 
at  the  war  at  the  very  beginning,  and  covered  such 
great  distances  in  marching  from  place  to  place  and 
battle  to  battle.  These  chaps  were  lucky,  because 
they  got  the  change  of  scene  and  the  excitement  of 
big  fighting,  but  the  only  change  we  had  was  in  going 
out  of  one  trench  into  another. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  December  and  bitter 
weather,  but  we  were  cheered  up  by  the  thought  of 
Christmas,  and  found  that  things  were  getting  much 
more  lively  than  they  had  been.  One  night  a  splendid 
act  was  performed  by  Lieutenant  Seckham,  one  of  our 
platoon  officers,  and  two  of  our  privates,  Cunningham 
and  Harris. 

An  officer  of  the  Royal  Engineers  had  gone  out  to 
fix  up  some  barbed  wire  entanglements  in  front  of 
our  trenches.  The  Germans  were  firing  heavily  at 
the  time,  and  they  must  have  either  seen  or  heard 


SOLDIERS*  STORIES  OF  THE  WAR 

the  officer  at  work.  They  went  for  him  and  struck 
him  down  and  there  he  lay  in  the  open.  To  leave 
the  trenches  was  a  most  perilous  thing  to  do,  but 
Mr.  Seckham  and  the  two  men  got  out  and  on  to 
the  open  ground,  and  bit  by  bit  they  made  their  way 
to  the  Engineer  officer,  got  hold  of  him,  and  under  a 
furious  fire  brought  him  right  along  and  into  our 
trench,  and  we  gave  a  cheer  which  rang  out  in  the 
night  above  the  firing  and  told  the  Germans  that 
their  frantic  efforts  had  failed.  Mr.  Seckham  was  a 
splendid  officer  in  every  way  and  we  were  greatly 
grieved  when,  not  long  afterwards,  he  was  killed. 
Another  of  our  fine  young  platoon  officers,  Lieutenant 
Townsend,  has  been  killed  since  I  came  home. 

We  were  so  near  the  Germans  at  times  that  we 
could  throw  things  at  them  and  they  could  hurl  things 
at  us,  and  we  both  did,  the  things  being  little  bombs, 
after  the  style  of  the  old  hand-grenade.  We  got  up 
a  bomb-throwing  class  and  hurled  our  bombs;  but 
it  was  not  possible  to  throw  them  very  far — only 
twenty-five  yards  or  so.  The  West  Yorkshires,  who 
were  near  us,  got  a  great  many  of  these  missiles 
thrown  at  them,  but  they  did  not  all  explode.  One 
day  a  sergeant  of  ours — Jarvis — was  out  getting  wood 
when  he  saw  one  of  them  lying  on  the  ground.  He 
picked  it  up  and  looked  at  it,  then  threw  it  down 
and  instantly  it  exploded,  and  he  had  no  fewer  than 
forty-three  wounds,  mostly  cuts,  caused  by  the  flying 
fragments,  so  that  the  bomb  made  a  proper  mess  of 
him. 

Our  own  bombs  were  made  of  ordinary  pound  jam 
tins,  filled  with  explosive  and  so  on,  like  a  little  shell, 
which,  as  the  case  of  the  sergeant  showed,  was  not 
anything  like  as  sweet  a  thing  to  get  as  jam.  The 


[To  face  p.  102. 

"  WE   WERE    SO    NEAR    THE    GERMANS    THAT   THEY    COULD    HURL 
BOMBS    AT    US." 


Ge 


LIFE   IN  THE  TRENCHES  103 


ermans  were  very  fond  of  flinging  these  hand-bombs 
and  seemed  to  have  a  great  idea  of  their  value  in 
attacks  and  defence. 

Christmas  Eve  was  with  us,  Christmas  Day  was 
soon  to  dawn — and  what  a  strange  and  terrible 
Christmas  it  was  to  be  ! 

On  Christmas  Eve  itself  we  plainly  heard  the 
Germans  shouting. 

"  A  merry  Christmas  to  you  !  "  they  said,  and 
there  was  no  mistaking  the  German  voices  that  came 
to  us  in  our  trenches  out  of  the  darkness. 

"  A  merry  Christmas  to  you  !  " 

Again  the  Germans  greeted  us,  though  we  could 
not  see  them,  and  there  was  something  pathetic  in 
the  words,  which  were  shouted  in  a  lull  in  the  fight- 
ing. Some  of  our  men  answered  the  wish,  but  I  did 
not — I  had  no  heart  to  do  so,  when  I  knew  that  the 
message  meant  so  little. 

It  may  have  been  a  matter  of  sentiment,  because 
this  was  the  time  of  peace  on  earth  and  goodwill 
towards  men,  or  it  may  not;  but  at  any  rate  the 
order  came  that  if  the  Germans  did  not  fire  we  were 
not  to  fire.  But  Christmas  or  no  Christmas,  and  in 
spite  of  their  greetings,  the  Germans  went  on  firing, 
and  we  were  forced  to  do  the  same,  so  throughout 
the  night  of  Christmas  Eve  we  had  our  rifles  going 
and  did  not  stop  till  it  was  daylight. 

But  the  rifle  fire  was  not  the  only  sound  of  warfare 
that  was  heard — there  was  the  sharp  booming  of 
artillery.  The  field  batteries  were  hard  at  it  and 
we  knew  they  must  be  doing  fearful  mischief  amongst 
the  Germans.  The  night  became  truly  awful;  but 
how  dreadful  we  did  not  know  till  Christmas  Day 
itself,  then,  the  firing  having  ceased,  we  saw  that 


104     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

the  ground  in  front  of  us,  not  very  far  away,  was 
littered  with  the  German  dead. 

A  Merry  Christmas  ! 

The  very  men  who  had  sent  the  greeting  to  us 
were  lying  dead  within  our  sight,  for  the  Germans 
had  started  to  change  their  position  and  the  British 
shells  had  shattered  them.  Something  like  two 
hundred  and  fifty  of  the  Germans  were  lying  dead 
upon  the  field,  and  sorry  indeed  must  the  dawn 
of  Christmas  Day  have  been  to  those  who  were 
left. 

Peace  on  earth  !  There  was  peace  of  a  sort,  for 
as  we  looked  on  the  German  dead  from  our  trenches 
we  saw  two  Germans  appear  in  full  view,  holding 
up  their  hands,  to  show  us  that  they  were  unarmed. 

You  can  imagine  what  a  solemn  spectacle  that 
was — what  a  Christmas  Day  it  was  which  dawned 
upon  us  in  the  trenches.  We  knew  instinctively 
what  was  wanted — the  ground  was  littered  with  the 
German  dead  and  the  Germans  wanted  an  armistice 
so  that  they  could  bury  them. 

One  of  our  officers  went  out  and  talked  with  the 
two  Germans  who  were  holding  up  their  hands — 
covered  by  British  rifles.  He  soon  learned  what 
they  wanted,  and  the  armistice  was  granted. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of 
Christmas  Day  when  the  Germans  set  to  work  to 
bury  their  dead,  and  as  they  did  so  we  left  our 
trenches  and  stood  on  the  open  ground  and  watched 
them.  We  saw  them  perfectly  clearly,  because  the 
main  German  trench  was  not  more  than  120  yards 
away,  and  the  burial  took  place  a  few  yards  behind 
this. 

I  have  seen  a  photograph  of  British  and  German 


LIFE   IN   THE  TRENCHES  105 

soldiers  fraternising  on  Christmas  Day;  but  there 
was  nothing  of  this  sort  with  us.  The  only  incident 
I  witnessed  was  a  British  officer  shaking  hands  with 
a  German  officer.  That  was  all.  I  did  not  shake 
hands  with  them — and  I  had  not  the  least  wish  to 
do  so,  though  I  bore  them  no  ill-will  on  that  sad 
Christmas  Day. 

I  was  thankful  when  Christmas  was  over  and  we 
had  settled  down  to  ordinary  routine  work,  killing 
and  being  killed,  for  it  is  astonishing  how  soon  you 
get  accustomed  to  the  business  of  firing  on  and 
being  fired  at. 

The  trenches  had  got  from  bad  to  worse.  When  I 
first  went  into  them  there  was  eighteen  inches  of 
water  and  five  inches  of  mud;  but  now  it  was  a 
matter  of  standing  almost  up  to  the  waist  in  water. 
They  became  so  bad  that  instead  of  using  the  com- 
munication trenches,  which  you  might  almost  call 
tunnels,  it  was  decided  that  we  should  cross  the 
open  country  to  get  to  our  fighting-place,  the  main 
trench — indeed,  we  had  no  option,  because  the 
communication  trench  was  almost  impassable. 

On  a  mid-January  night,  and  very  bad  at  that, 
we  began  the  journey  to  the  trenches.  If  there  had 
been  just  ordinary  honest  darkness  we  should  have 
been  all  right  and  quite  satisfied;  but  though  there 
was  darkness  enough  there  was  plenty  of  light— 
the  uncanny  brightness  which  came  from  the  star- 
shells. 

Star-shells  were  going  up  all  along  the  line  and 
bursting.  They  are  a  sort  of  firework,  giving  a 
brilliant  light,  and  as  they  exploded  they  showed 
us  up  almost  as  clearly  as  if  we  had  been  in  daylight. 

We  had  only  a  very  short  distance  to  go,  but  the 


106    SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

star-lights  made  the  journey  to  the  trenches  a  desperate 
undertaking. 

In  single  file,  a  little  bunch  of  ten  of  us,  crouching 
down,  holding  our  loaded  rifles  and  carrying  all  we 
possessed — we  went  along,  losing  no  time. 

From  the  stealthy  way  in  which  we  started  on 
our  little  trip  you  might  have  thought  that  we  were 
burglars  or  villains  bent  on  some  fearsome  job, 
instead  of  ordinary  British  soldiers  getting  back  to 
their  trenches. 

We  went  with  caution,  and  had  not  covered  more 
than  ten  yards  when  what  I  take  to  be  machine-gun 
fire  was  opened  on  us. 

All  at  once,  without  the  slightest  warning,  a  real 
hail  of  bullets  struck  us,  and  of  the  ten  men  of  us 
who  were  advancing  in  single  file  three  were  killed 
and  four  were  wounded.  The  three  who  were  shot 
down  in  the  ghastly  glare  of  the  star-shells  were 
ahead  of  me. 

When  that  happened  we  were  ordered  to  keep  well 
apart  and  open  out,  but  there  was  not  much  chance 
for  those  of  us  who  were  left ;  at  any  rate,  no  sooner 
had  we  obeyed  and  were  making  a  little  headway 
than  I  was  struck  myself  on  the  head. 

For  half-an-hour  or  so  I  was  unconscious;  then  I 
recovered  and  picked  myself  up  and  found  that  I 
was  all  alone.  I  crawled  a  few  yards  to  a  trench  and 
got  into  it;  but  finding  it  full  of  water  I  thought  I 
might  as  well  be  killed  as  drowned,  so  I  got  out,  and 
not  caring  in  the  least  for  the  German  bullets  or 
the  star-shells,  I  made  my  way  as  best  I  could  to 
the  nearest  dressing-station,  and  received  attention. 
After  that  I  found  myself  in  a  motor-car,  and  later 
at  a  clearing-station  and  on  the  boat  for  home. 


LIFE   IN   THE  TRENCHES  107 

You  can  see  the  scar  of  the  wound  here;  but  I 
don't  bother  about  that.  I  suffer  terribly  from 
sleeplessness — and  too  often  I  see  again  the  German 
soldiers  who  had  wished  us  a  merry  Christmas — and 
were  buried  at  the  back  of  their  trenches  on  the 
gloomy  afternoon  of  Christmas  Day. 


CHAPTER  IX 

SAPPING    AND   MINING 

[In  blowing  up  bridges,  repairing  the  ravages  of  the  enemy, 
in  throwing  pontoons  over  rivers,  and  in  countless  other  ways, 
the  Royal  Engineers  have  contributed  largely  to  the  success 
of  the  British  operations  in  the  war.  These  splendid  men, 
known  a  century  ago  as  the  Royal  Sappers  and  Miners,  have 
not  only  worked  with  the  greatest  energy  since  the  war  began, 
but  they  have  also  seen  some  hard  fighting.  This  story  of 
Sapper  William  Bell,  23rd  Field  Company,  Royal  Engineers, 
gives  a  picture  of  the  many-sided  operations  of  the  magnificent 
corps  whose  mottoes  are  "  Everywhere  "  and  "  Where  right 
and  glory  lead."] 

SHEER  hard  work  was  the  order  of  the  day  for  our 
chaps  from  the  time  I  landed  in  France  from  an  old 
Irish  cattle-boat  till  the  day  when  I  was  packed  off 
back  to  England  suffering  from  rheumatic  fever. 

We  worked  excessively  hard,  and  so  did  everybody 
else.  Wherever  there  was  an  obstacle  it  had  to  go, 
and  the  infantry  themselves  time  after  time  slaved 
away  at  digging  and  clearing,  all  of  which  was  over 
and  above  the  strain  of  the  righting  and  tremendous 
marching.  It  was  a  rare  sight  to  see  the  Guards 
sweeping  down  the  corn  with  their  bayonets — sickles 
that  reaped  many  a  grim  harvest  then  and  later. 

It  was  during  the  early  stage  of  the  war  that  bridges 
were  blown  up  in  wholesale  fashion  to  check  the 
German  advance,  and  the  work  being  particularly 

108 


SAPPING   AND   MINING  109 

dangerous  we  had  some  very  narrow  escapes.  A  very 
near  thing  happened  at  Soissons. 

We  had  been  ordered  to  blow  up  a  bridge,  and 
during  the  day  we  charged  it  with  guncotton,  and  were 
waiting  to  set  the  fuse  until  the  last  of  our  troops  had 
crossed  over.  That  was  a  long  business,  and  exciting 
enough  for  anybody,  because  for  hours  the  men  of  a 
whole  division  were  passing,  and  all  the  time  that  great 
passing  body  of  men,  horses,  guns,  waggons  and  so  on, 
was  under  a  heavy  artillery  fire  from  the  Germans. 

At  last  the  bridge  was  clear — it  had  served  its  pur- 
pose ;  the  division  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
and  all  that  remained  to  be  done  was  to  blow  up  the 
bridge.  Three  sections  of  our  company  retired,  and  the 
remaining  section  was  left  behind  to  attend  to  the  fuse. 

Very  soon  we  heard  a  terrific  report,  and  the  same 
awful  thought  occurred  to  many  of  us — that  there 
had  been  a  premature  explosion  and  that  the  section 
was  lost.  One  of  my  chums,  judging  by  the  time  of 
the  fuse,  said  it  was  certain  that  the  section  was 
blown  up,  and  indeed  it  was  actually  reported  that 
an  officer  and  a  dozen  men  had  been  killed. 

But,  to  our  intense  relief,  we  learned  that  the  report 
was  wrong;  but  we  heard  also  how  narrowly  our 
fellows  had  escaped,  and  how  much  they  owed  to  the 
presence  of  mind  and  coolness  of  the  officer.  It  seems 
that  as  soon  as  the  fuse  was  fired  the  lieutenant  in- 
stinctively suspected  that  something  was  wrong,  and 
instantly  ordered  the  men  to  lie  flat,  with  the  result 
that  they  were  uninjured  by  the  tremendous  upheaval 
of  masonry,  though  they  were  a  bit  shaken  when  they 
caught  us  up  on  the  road  later.  This  incident  gives 
a  good  idea  of  the  sort  of  work  and  the  danger  that 
the  Royal  Engineers  were  constantly  experiencing  in 


110    SOLDIERS'   STORIES  OF  THE  WAR 

the  earlier  stages  of  the  war,  so  that  one  can  easily 
understand  what  is  happening  now  in  the  bitter 
winter-time. 

An  Engineer,  like  the  referee  in  a  football  match, 
sees  a  lot  of  the  game,  and  it  was  near  a  French  village 
that  we  had  a  fine  view  of  a  famous  affair. 

We  had  been  sent  to  the  spot  on  special  duty,  and 
were  resting  on  the  crest  of  a  hill,  watching  the  effects 
of  the  enemy's  field-guns. 

Suddenly  in  the  distance  we  saw  figures  moving.  At 
first  we  could  not  clearly  make  them  out,  but  presently 
we  saw  that  they  were  Algerian  troops,  and  that  there 
seemed  to  be  hosts  of  them.  They  swarmed  on  swiftly, 
and  took  up  a  position  in  some  trenches  near  us. 

The  Algerians,  like  our  Indian  troops,  hate  trench 
fighting,  and  long  to  come  to  grips  with  the  enemy. 
We  knew  this  well  enough,  but  we  realised  the  peril 
of  leaving  cover  and  advancing  towards  an  enemy 
who  was  very  close,  and  who  was  sweeping  the  ground 
with  an  uncommonly  deadly  fire. 

Putting  all  fear  aside,  remembering  only  their 
intense  desire  to  come  to  grips,  giving  no  thought 
to  what  must  happen  to  them,  the  Algerians  with 
enthusiastic  shouts  sprang  from  the  trenches  and 
bounded,  like  the  sons  of  the  desert  they  are,  across 
the  shell-swept  zone  that  separated  them  from  the 
annihilating  gunfire  of  the  enemy. 

What  happened  was  truly  terrible.  The  Algerians 
were  literally  mowed  down,  as  they  charged  across 
the  deadly  zone,  and  for  a  piece  of  sheer  recklessness 
I  consider  that  this  attack  was  as  good — or  as  bad — 
as  the  charge  of  the  Light  Brigade. 

The  Algerians  were  cut  to  pieces  in  the  mad  attempt 
to  reach  the  German  batteries,  and  the  handful  of 


SAPPING  AND   MINING  111 


survivors  were  forced  to  retire.  To  their  everlasting 
credit  be  it  said  that,  in  withdrawing  under  that 
terrible  fire,  they  did  their  best  to  bring  their  wounded 
men  away.  They  picked  up  as  many  of  the  fallen 
as  they  could  and  slung  them  across  the  shoulder,  as 
the  best  way  of  carrying  them  out  of  danger. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  scene  that  met  my  eyes  when 
we  returned  to  the  village.  Women  were  weeping 
and  wringing  their  hands  as  the  survivors  carried 
their  wounded  through  the  streets — for  the  French 
are  deeply  attached  to  their  Colonial  troops — and  the 
men  of  the  place  were  nearly  as  bad;  even  some  of 
our  chaps,  who  are  not  too  easily  moved,  were  upset. 

While  in  this  locality  we  had  a  very  warm  time  of 
it,  for  we  were  continuously  under  artillery  fire.  We 
were  in  a  remarkably  good  position  for  seeing  the 
battle,  some  of  our  batteries  being  on  our  right,  some 
on  our  left,  and  the  German  guns  in  front.  It  was 
really  hot  work,  and  when  we  were  not  hard  at  it 
carrying  out  our  own  duties,  we  took  cover  on  the  other 
side  of  a  hill  near  the  road ;  but  some  of  our  men  got 
rather  tired  of  cover,  and  found  the  position  irksome ; 
but  if  you  so  much  as  showed  yourself  you  were 
practically  done  for.  One  day  our  trumpeter  exposed 
himself,  just  for  a  moment ;  but  it  was  enough.  He 
was  instantly  struck  and  badly  wounded. 

At  another  time  we  were  in  our  sleeping-quarters  in 
a  school-house,  and  had  an  escape  that  was  truly 
miraculous.  We  had  settled  down  and  were  feeling 
pretty  comfortable,  when  the  Germans  suddenly 
started  shelling  us ;  suddenly,  too,  with  a  terrific  crash, 
a  shell  dropped  and  burst  in  the  very  midst  of  us. 

Theoretically,  the  lot  of  us  in  that  school-house 
ought  to  have  been  wiped  out  by  this  particular  shell, 


112     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

but  the  extraordinary  fact  is  that  though  every  one  was 
badly  shaken  up,  only  one  of  our  men  was  wounded — 
all  the  rest  of  us  escaped.  Luckily  we  had  the  hospital 
men  at  hand,  and  the  poor  chap  who  had  been  knocked 
over  was  taken  away  at  once  to  the  doctors. 

We  had  had  a  very  hard,  hot  time,  and  were  glad 
when  the  French  came  and  relieved  us,  and  gave  our 
division  a  bit  of  rest  and  change.  The  Germans  in 
that  particular  part  were  thoroughly  beaten,  and  a 
batch  of  500  who  were  covering  the  retreat  were 
captured  by  the  French. 

They  had  started  for  Paris,  and  were  very  near  it 
when  they  were  bagged.  I  dare  say  they  got  to  Paris 
all  right.  So  did  we,  for  we  entrained  for  the  city, 
but  stayed  there  less  than  an  hour.  I  had  a  chance 
of  seeing  something  of  the  thorough  way  in  which 
Paris  had  been  prepared  for  defence,  and  on  my  way 
to  Ypres  I  noticed  how  extensively  the  bridges  that 
were  likely  to  be  of  any  use  to  the  Germans  had  been 
destroyed.  The  loss  in  bridges  alone  in  this  great 
war  has  been  stupendous. 

When  we  entered  Ypres  it  was  a  beautiful  old 
cathedral  city ;  now  it  is  a  shapeless  mass  of  ruins,  a 
melancholy  centre  of  the  longest  and  deadliest  battle 
that  has  ever  been  fought  in  the  history  of  the  world. 
We  had  a  rousing  reception  from  the  British  troops 
who  were  already  in  the  city,  and  a  specially  warm 
greeting  from  our  own  R.E.  men,  who  gave  me  a  huge 
quantity  of  pipes,  tobacco  and  cigarettes  from  home, 
to  divide  amongst  our  company. 

We  were  soon  in  the  thick  of  the  fiercest  and  most 
eventful  part  of  the  fighting.  We  were  put  to  work 
digging  trenches  for  the  infantry  and  fixing  up  wire 
entanglements.  The  wire  was  in  coils  half  a  mile 


[To  face  p.  112. 
"  WE   HAD    A   VERY    WARM    TIME    OF   IT  "  (p.  111). 


SAPPING   AND   MINING  113 

long,  and  what  with  that  and  the  barbs  and  the 
weight,  the  carrying  and  dragging  and  fixing  was  a 
truly  fearsome  job. 

And  not  only  that,  but  it  was  extremely  dangerous, 
because  we  were  constantly  under  fire — sometimes 
we  were  fixing  up  wire  within  a  few  hundred  yards 
of  the  German  lines.  Before  getting  to  Ypres  we  had 
covering  parties  of  infantry  to  protect  us  from  snipers 
and  sudden  attacks ;  but  at  Ypres  this  protection  was 
rarely  given,  because  of  the  very  heavy  pressure  on 
the  firing  line.  We  were  ceaselessly  sniped;  but  on 
the  whole  our  casualties  were  remarkably  few — but 
we  were  always  known  as  the  "  Lucky  Company." 

In  addition  to  doing  this  hard  and  dangerous  work, 
we  were  roughing  it  with  a  vengeance.  Our  sleeping- 
quarters  were  dug-outs  in  a  wood,  and  were  lined 
with  straw,  when  we  could  get  it.  The  enemy 
always  make  a  special  point  of  "  searching  "  woods 
with  shells,  and  we  were  so  situated  that  we  were 
pestered  day  and  night  by  the  German  gunners,  who 
were  hoping  to  draw  our  artillery  fire  and  so  locate 
our  own  batteries.  Anything  like  rest  was  utterly 
out  of  the  question  owing  to  these  artillery  duels, 
which  were  the  bane  of  our  life. 

Silence  was  essential  for  our  work,  and  we  used 
muffled  mauls — our  big  wooden  mallets. 

One  moonlight  night  we  were  going  to  our  usual 
duties  when  a  shell  flew  past,  exploding  with  terrific 
force  within  ten  paces  of  us.  We  took  it  to  be  one 
of  the  Germans'  random  shots,  but  after  going  a 
short  distance  we  had  more  shells  bursting  about 
us,  and  bullets  whizzing,  telling  us  that  the  enemy's 
snipers  were  at  it  again.  Once  more  we  justified 
our  nickname  of  the  "  Lucky  Company,"  for  we  had 


114     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

only  one  man  hit — a  fine  chap,  whose  fighting  qualities 
were  well  known  to  us,  so  we  grinned  when  he  said 
to  me,  after  being  struck  on  the  shoulder,  "  I  should 
like  to  have  a  look  at  that  German,  Bill  !  " 

In  the  moonlight  we  offered  a  first-rate  target  to 
the  hidden  German  snipers,  and  they  certainly  ought 
to  have  done  more  with  us  than  just  hit  one  man; 
but  compared  with  British  soldiers,  the  Germans, 
with  rare  exceptions,  are  only  "  third-class  "  shots. 
I  have  mentioned  this  little  affair  chiefly  by  way 
of  showing  the  constant  danger  to  which  field  engineers 
are  exposed. 

The  Germans  at  that  time  had  their  eyes  on  us 
properly,  and  the  very  next  day  they  did  their  level 
best  to  make  up  for  their  sorry  performance  in  the 
moonlight. 

We  had  been  told  off  to  dig  trenches  for  the  in- 
fantry on  our  left,  and  we  started  out  on  the  job. 
Rain  had  been  falling  heavily,  the  ground  was  like 
a  quagmire,  and  we  had  to  struggle  through  marshy 
ground  and  ploughed  fields. 

This  was  bad  enough  in  all  conscience,  but  to  help 
to  fill  the  cup  of  our  misery  the  German  snipers  got 
at  us,  and  gave  us  what  was  really  a  constant  hail  of 
bullets.  We  floundered  on,  doing  our  dead  best  to 
reach  a  certain  wood.  After  floundering  for  some 
time,  we  were  ordered  to  halt.  By  that  time  we 
had  reached  the  wood,  and  the  fire  was  truly  awful. 

Behind  our  tool-carts  we  usually  fasten  a  big 
biscuit-tin,  which  is  a  big  metal  case,  and  as  the 
sniping  became  particularly  furious,  four  of  our  men 
bolted  for  shelter  behind  the  biscuit-tin.  I  don't  know 
what  it  is  in  the  British  soldier  that  makes  him  see 
the  humour  of  even  a  fatal  situation,  but  it  happened 


SAPPING   AND   MINING  115 

that  the  rest  of  us  were  so  tickled  at  the  sight  of  our 
comrades  scuttling  that  we  burst  out  laughing. 

But  we  didn't  laugh  long,  for  shells  as  well  as 
bullets  came,  and  we  saw  that  the  Germans  were 
concentrating  their  fire  upon  us.  They  were  going 
for  all  they  were  worth  at  the  wood,  and  our  only 
chance  of  safety  lay  in  securing  cover.  We  made  a 
dash  for  the  trees,  and  I  sheltered  behind  one. 

Then  an  extraordinary  thing  happened.  A  shell 
came  and  literally  chopped  down  the  tree.  The  shell 
spared  my  life,  but  the  tumbling  tree  nearly  got 
me.  Luckily  I  skipped  aside,  and  just  escaped  from 
being  crushed  to  death  by  the  crashing  timber. 

The  firing  was  kept  up  for  a  long  time  after  that, 
but  we  went  on  with  our  work  and  finished  it,  and 
then  we  were  ordered  to  occupy  the  trenches  we  had 
just  dug.  We  were  glad  to  get  into  them,  and  it 
was  pleasant  music  to  listen  to  our  own  infantry, 
who  had  come  into  action,  and  were  settling  the 
accounts  of  some  of  the  German  snipers. 

Later  on  we  were  told  to  get  to  a  farmhouse,  and 
we  did,  and  held  it  for  some  hours,  suffering  greatly 
from  thirst  and  hunger,  in  consequence  of  having 
missed  our  meals  since  the  early  morning.  Some  of 
our  tool-carts  had  been  taken  back  by  the  infantry, 
and  this  was  a  far  more  perilous  task  than  some 
people  might  think,  for  the  carts  are  usually  filled 
with  detonators,  containing  high  explosives  like  gun- 
cotton,  and  an  exploding  shell  hitting  a  cart  would 
cause  devastation. 

The  farmhouse  was  ranked  as  a  "safe  place," 
and  we  reckoned  that  we  were  lucky  to  get  inside 
it;  but  it  proved  anything  but  lucky,  and  I  grieve 
to  say  that  it  was  here  that  my  particular  chum,  an 


116    SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

old  schoolmate,  met  his  death.  We  had  scarcely 
reached  the  "  safe  place  "  when  the  cursed  shells 
began  to  burst  again,  and  I  said  to  myself  that  we 
were  bound  to  get  some  souvenirs.  And  we  did. 

My  comrades  had  brought  their  tea  to  a  hut,  and 
I  went  there  to  get  my  canteen  to  take  to  the  cook- 
house. No  sooner  had  I  left  the  hut  than  I  heard  a 
fearful  explosion.  One  gets  used  to  these  awful 
noises,  and  I  took  no  notice  of  it  at  the  time;  but 
shortly  afterwards  I  was  told  that  my  chum  had 
been  hit,  and  I  rushed  back  to  the  hut.  Terrible 
was  the  sight  that  met  me.  Eight  of  our  men  were 
lying  wounded,  amongst  them  my  friend.  With  a 
heavy  heart  I  picked  him  up,  and  he  died  in  my  arms 
soon  afterwards.  Two  other  men  died  before  their 
injuries  could  be  attended  to — and  this  single  shell 
also  killed  two  officers'  chargers. 

It  was  soon  after  this  that  I  went  through  what 
was  perhaps  my  most  thrilling  experience.  Again 
it  was  night,  and  we  were  engaged  in  our  usual  work, 
when  suddenly  we  heard  the  sound  of  heavy  rifle  fire. 
Throwing  down  our  tools,  we  grabbed  our  rifles.  We 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  what  was  happening, 
but  looking  cautiously  over  the  parapet  of  the  trench 
which  we  were  working  on,  we  could  dimly  see  dark 
figures  in  front,  and  took  them  to  be  Germans. 

We  were  ordered  to  fire,  the  word  being  passed 
from  man  to  man  to  take  careful  aim;  but  owing 
to  the  darkness  this  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  do.  We 
fired,  and  instantly  we  were  greeted  with  terrific 
shouting,  and  we  knew  that  the  Germans  were  charg- 
ing. Not  an  instant  was  lost.  With  fixed  bayonets, 
out  from  the  trench  we  jumped,  the  infantry  on  our 
right  and  left  doing  the  same. 


SAPPING   AND   MINING  117 

Carrying  out  a  bayonet  charge  is  an  experience  I  shall 
never  forget.  One  loses  all  sense  of  fear,  and  thinks 
of  nothing  but  going  for  and  settling  the  enemy. 
For  my  own  part  I  distinctly  recollect  plunging  my 
bayonet  into  a  big,  heavy  German,  and  almost  in- 
stantly afterwards  clubbing  another  with  the  butt 
of  my  rifle.  It  was  only  a  short  fight,  but  a  very 
fierce  one.  The  Germans  gave  way,  leaving  their 
dead  and  wounded  behind  them. 

When  the  charge  was  over  we  went  back  to  our 
trenches,  taking  our  wounded  with  us.  Our  com- 
pany's casualties  numbered  about  a  dozen,  the 
majority  of  the  men  suffering  from  more  or  less 
serious  wounds ;  but  we  were  pretty  well  satisfied, 
and  felt  that  we  had  earned  our  sleep  that  night. 

The  next  day  I  had  another  close  shave,  a  shell 
bursting  very  near  me  and  killing  twelve  horses 
belonging  to  the  15th  Hussars,  who  were  on  patrol 
duty. 

After  seven  weeks  of  this  famous  and  awful  fighting 
at  Ypres,  I  was  taken  ill  with  rheumatic  fever — and  no 
wonder,  after  such  work,  and  sleeping  in  such  places 
as  we  were  forced  to  occupy.  After  a  spell  in  the 
hospital  at  Ypres,  I  was  moved  on  from  place  to  place, 
till  I  made  the  final  stage  of  the  journey  to  England. 

A  remarkable  thing  happened  during  one  of  the 
heavy  bombardments  that  we  endured.  A  shell 
came  and  fell  plump  in  the  midst  of  us,  and  it  really 
seemed  as  if  we  were  all  doomed.  But  the  shell  did 
not  explode,  and  on  examining  the  cap,  it  was  found 
to  bear  the  number  "  23."  That,  you  will  remember, 
is  the  number  of  my  own  company,  so  you  can  under- 
stand that  we  felt  more  justified  than  ever  in  calling 
ourselves  the  "  Lucky  Company." 


CHAPTER  X 

L  BATTERY'S  HEROIC  STAND 

[Not  one  of  the  almost  numberless  valiant  deeds  of  the  war 
has  proved  more  thrilling  and  splendid  than  the  exploit  of 
L  Battery,  Royal  Horse  Artillery,  at  Nery,  near  Com- 
piegne,  on  September  1st,  1914.  After  greatly  distinguishing 
itself  at  Mons,  the  battery  helped  to  cover  the  retreat  of  the 
Allies,  and  fought  a  heavy  rearguard  action.  On  the  last  day 
of  the  retirement  the  battery  unexpectedly  came  into  action 
at  very  close  range  with  an  overwhelmingly  superior  German 
force.  So  destructive  was  the  fire  which  was  brought  to  bear 
on  the  battery  that  only  one  British  gun  was  left  in  action, 
and  this  was  served,  until  all  the  ammunition  was  expended, 
by  Battery-Sergeant-Major  Dorrell,  Sergeant  Nelson,  Gunner 
H.  Darbyshire  and  Driver  Osborne,  all  the  rest  of  the  officers 
and  men  of  the  battery  having  been  killed  or  wounded. 
At  the  close  of  the  artillery  duel  the  Queen's  Bays  and 
I  Battery  came  to  the  rescue,  and  the  shattered  remnant  of 
L  Battery  came  triumphant  out  of  the  tremendous  fray. 
This  story  is  told  by  Gunner  Darbyshire,  who,  with  Driver 
Osborne,  was  awarded  the  great  distinction  of  the  Medaille 
Militaire  of  France,  while  the  sergeant-major  and  Sergeant 
Nebon  for  their  gallantry  were  promoted  to  second-lieutenants, 
and  awarded  the  Victoria  Cross.] 

As  soon  as  we  got  into  touch  with  the  Germans — and 
that  was  at  Mons — they  never  left  us  alone.  We  had 
a  hot  time  with  them,  but  we  gave  them  a  hotter. 
Mons  was  a  terrible  experience,  especially  to  men  going 
straight  into  action  for  the  first  time,  and  so  furious 
was  the  artillery  duel  that  at  its  height  some  of  the 
British  and  German  shells  actually  struck  each  other 
in  the  air.  In  less  than  an  hour  we  fired  nearly  six 

118 


L  BATTERY'S  HEROIC   STAND         119 

hundred  rounds  —  the  full  number  carried  by  a  battery 
of  six  guns.  But  I  must  not  talk  of  Mons  ;  I  will  get 
to  the  neighbourhood  of  Compiegne,  and  tell  of  the 
fight  that  was  sprung  on  the  battery  and  left  only  three 
survivors. 

All  through  the  retreat  we  had  been  fighting  heavily, 
and  throughout  the  day  on  August  31st  we  fought 
till  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon;  then  we  were 
ordered  to  retire  to  Compiegne.  It  was  a  long  march, 
and  when  we  got  to  Nery,  near  Compiegne,  early  in 
the  evening,  both  horses  and  men  were  utterly  ex- 
hausted and  very  hungry.  As  soon  as  we  got  in  we 
gave  the  horses  some  food  —  with  the  mounted  man 
the  horse  always  comes  first  —  and  made  ourselves 
as  comfortable  as  possible. 

Outposts  were  put  out  by  the  officers,  and  the 
cavalry  who  were  with  us,  the  2nd  Dragoon  Guards 
(Queen's  Bays),  were  in  a  small  field  on  the  side  of  a 
road  which  was  opposite  to  us.  That  road  was  really 
a  deep  cutting,  and  I  want  you  to  bear  it  in  mind, 
because  it  largely  proved  the  salvation  of  the  few 
survivors  of  the  battery  at  the  end  of  the  fight.  For 
the  rest,  the  country  was  just  of  the  sort  you  can  see 
in  many  places  in  England  —  peaceful,  fertile  and 
prosperous,  with  farms  dotted  about,  but  nobody 
left  on  them,  for  the  warning  had  been  given  that 
the  German  hordes  were  marching,  and  the  people 
had  fled  in  terror. 

Having  made  all  our  dispositions,  we  went  to  sleep, 
and  rested  till  half-past  three  in  the  morning,  when 
we  were  roused  and  told  to  get  ready  to  march  at  a 
moment's  notice. 

The  darkness  seemed  to  hang  about  more  than  usual  , 
and  the  morning  was  very  misty;  but  we  did  not 


120     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

pay  much  attention  to  that,  and  we  breakfasted  and 
fed  the  horses.  We  expected  to  be  off  again,  but 
the  battery  was  ordered  to  stand  fast  until  further 
notice. 

In  war-time  never  a  moment  is  wasted,  and  Ser- 
geant-Major  Dorrell  thought  that  this  would  be  a 
good  opportunity  to  water  the  horses,  so  he  ordered 
the  right  half -battery  to  water,  and  the  horses  were 
taken  behind  a  sugar  factory  which  was  a  little  dis- 
tance away.  The  horses  were  watered  and  brought 
back  and  hooked  into  the  guns  and  waggons ;  then 
the  left  half-battery  went  to  water. 

Everything  was  perfectly  quiet.  Day  had  broken, 
and  the  landscape  was  hidden  in  the  grey  veil  of  the 
early  morning.  All  was  well,  it  seemed,  and  we  were 
now  expecting  to  move  off.  A  ridge  about  600  yards 
away  was,  we  supposed,  occupied  by  French  cavalry, 
and  a  general  and  orderly  retreat  was  going  on  in  our 
rear.  Then,  without  the  slightest  warning,  a  "  rang- 
ing "  shot  was  dropped  into  the  battery,  and  we  knew 
instantly  that  the  Germans  were  on  us  and  had  fired 
this  trial  shot  to  get  the  range  of  us. 

Immediately  after  this  round  was  fired  the  whole 
place  was  alive  with  shrapnel  and  maxim  bullets, 
and  it  was  clear  that  the  battery  was  almost  sur- 
rounded by  German  artillery  and  infantry.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  French  cavalry  had  left  their 
position  on  the  ridge  before  daybreak,  and  a  strong 
German  force,  with  ten  guns  and  two  maxims,  had 
advanced  under  cover  of  the  mist  and  occupied  the 
position,  which  was  an  uncommonly  good  one  for 
artillery. 

We  were  taken  completely  by  surprise,  and  at  first 
could  do  nothing,  for  the  "  ranging  "  shot  was  followed 


L  BATTERY'S  HEROIC   STAND         121 

by  an  absolute  hail  of  shrapnel,  which  almost  blew 
the  battery  to  pieces. 

The  very  beginning  of  the  German  fire  made  havoc 
amongst  the  battery  and  the  Bays,  and  the  losses 
amongst  the  horses  were  particularly  severe  and 
crippling.  But  we  soon  pulled  ourselves  together, 
with  a  fierce  determination  to  save  the  battery,  and 
to  do  our  best  to  give  the  Germans  a  vast  deal  more 
than  they  were  giving  us. 

"  Who'll  volunteer  to  get  the  guns  into  action?  " 
shouted  Captain  Bradbury. 

Every  man  who  could  stand  and  fight  said  "  Me  !  " 
and  there  was  an  instant  rush  for  the  guns.  Owing 
to  heavy  losses  in  our  battery,  I  had  become  limber 
gunner,  and  it  was  part  of  my  special  duty  to  see  to 
the  ammunition  in  the  limbers.  But  special  duties 
at  a  time  like  that  don't  count  for  much;  the  chief 
thing  is  to  keep  the  guns  going,  and  it  was  now  a  case 
of  every  one,  officer  and  man,  striving  his  best  to  save 
the  battery.  The  officers,  while  they  lived  and  could 
keep  up  at  all,  were  noble,  and  worked  exactly  like 
the  men.  From  start  to  finish  of  that  fatal  fight 
they  set  a  glorious  example. 

We  rushed  to  the  guns,  I  say,  and  with  the  horses, 
when  they  were  living  and  unhurt,  and  man -handling 
when  the  poor  beasts  were  killed  or  maimed,  we  made 
shift  to  bring  as  heavy  a  fire  as  we  could  raise  against 
the  Germans.  The  advantage  was  clearly  and  un- 
doubtedly with  them — they  were  in  position,  they 
had  our  range,  and  they  had  far  more  guns  and  men, 
while  we  had  half  our  horses  watering  by  the  sugar 
mill  and  shells  were  thick  in  the  air  and  ploughing 
up  the  earth  before  we  could  get  a  single  gun  into 
action. 


122     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Let  me  stop  for  a  minute  to  explain  what  actually 
happened  to  the  guns,  so  that  you  can  understand 
the  odds  against  us  as  we  fought.  The  guns,  as  you 
have  seen,  were  ready  for  marching,  not  for  fighting, 
which  we  were  not  expecting;  half  the  horses  were 
away,  many  at  the  guns  were  killed  or  wounded,  and 
officers  and  men  had  suffered  fearfully  in  the  course 
literally  of  a  few  seconds  after  the  "  ranging  "  shot 
plumped  into  us. 

The  first  gun  came  to  grief  through  the  terrified 
horses  bolting  and  overturning  it  on  the  steep  bank 
of  the  road  in  front  of  us ;  the  second  gun  had  the 
spokes  of  a  wheel  blown  out  by  one  of  the  very  first 
of  the  German  shells,  the  third  was  disabled  by  a 
direct  hit  with  a  shell  which  killed  the  detachment; 
the  fourth  was  left  standing,  though  the  wheels  got 
knocked  about  and  several  holes  were  made  in  the 
limber,  and  all  the  horses  were  shot  down.  The 
fifth  gun  was  brought  into  action,  but  was  silenced 
by  the  detachment  being  killed,  and  the  sixth  gun, 
our  own,  remained  the  whole  time,  though  the  side 
of  the  limber  was  blown  away,  the  wheels  were  severely 
damaged,  holes  were  blown  in  the  shield,  and  the 
buffer  was  badly  peppered  by  shrapnel  bullets.  The 
gun  was  a  wreck,  but,  like  many  another  wreck,  it 
held  gallantly  on  until  the  storm  was  over — and  it 
was  saved  at  last. 

In  a  shell  fire  that  was  incessant  and  terrific,  ac- 
companied by  the  hail  of  bullets  from  the  maxims, 
we  got  to  work. 

We  had  had  some  truly  tremendous  cannonading 
at  Mons ;  but  this  was  infinitely  worse,  for  the  very 
life  of  the  battery  was  in  peril,  and  it  was  a  point- 
blank  battle,  just  rapid,  ding-dong  kill-fire,  our  own 


L  BATTERY'S   HEROIC   STAND         123 

shells  and  the  Germans'  bursting  in  a  fraction  of  time 
after  leaving  the  muzzles  of  the  guns. 

As  soon  as  we  were  fairly  in  action,  the  Germans 
gave  us  a  fiercer  fire  than  ever,  and  it  is  only  just  to 
them  to  say  that  their  practice  was  magnificent ;  but 
I  think  we  got  the  pull  of  them,  crippled  and  shattered 
though  we  were — nay,  I  know  we  did,  for  when  the 
bloody  business  was  all  over,  we  counted  far  more  of 
the  German  dead  than  all  our  battery  had  numbered 
at  the  start. 

The  thirteen -pounders  of  the  Royal  Horse  Artillery 
can  be  fired  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  rounds  a  minute, 
and  though  we  were  not  perhaps  doing  that,  because 
we  were  short-handed  and  the  limbers  were  about 
thirty  yards  away,  still  we  were  making  splendid 
practice,  and  it  was  telling  heavily  on  the  Germans. 

As  the  mist  melted  away  we  could  at  that  short 
distance  see  them  plainly — and  they  made  a  target 
which  we  took  care  not  to  miss.  We  went  for  the 
German  guns  and  fighting  men,  and  the  Germans  did 
all  they  knew  to  smash  us — but  they  didn't  know 
enough,  and  failed. 

As  soon  as  we  got  number  six  gun  into  action  I 
jumped  into  the  seat  and  began  firing,  but  so  awful 
was  the  concussion  of  our  own  explosions  and  the 
bursting  German  shells  that  I  could  not  bear  it  for 
long.  I  kept  it  up  for  about  twenty  minutes,  then 
my  nose  and  ears  were  bleeding  because  of  the  con- 
cussion, and  I  could  not  fire  any  more,  so  I  left  the 
seat  and  got  a  change  by  fetching  ammunition. 

And  now  there  happened  one  of  those  things  which, 
though  they  seem  marvellous,  are  always  taking 
place  in  time  of  war,  and  especially  such  a  war  as  this, 
when  life  is  lost  at  every  turn.  Immediately  after  I 


124     SOLDIERS'    STORIES    OF  THE   WAR 

left  the  seat,  Lieutenant  Campbell,  who  had  been 
helping  with 'the  ammunition,  took  it,  and  kept  the 
firing  up  without  the  loss  of  a  second  of  time ;  but  he 
had  not  fired  more  than  a  couple  of  rounds  when  a 
shell  burst  under  the  shield.  The  explosion  was  awful, 
and  the  brave  young  officer  was  hurled  about  six 
yards  away  from  the  very  seat  in  which  I  had  been 
sitting  a  few  seconds  earlier.  There  is  no  human 
hope  against  such  injuries,  and  Mr.  Campbell  lived 
for  only  a  few  minutes. 

Another  officer  who  fell  quickly  while  doing 
dangerous  work  was  Lieutenant  Mundy,  my  section 
officer.  He  was  finding  the  range  and  reporting  the 
effects  of  our  shells.  To  do  that  he  had  left  the  pro- 
tection of  the  shield  and  was  sitting  on  the  ground 
alongside  the  gun  wheel.  This  was  a  perilous  position, 
being  completely  exposed  to  the  shells  which  were 
bursting  all  around.  Mr.  Mundy  was  killed  by  an 
exploding  shell  which  also  wounded  me.  A  piece 
of  the  shell  caught  me  just  behind  the  shoulder-blade. 
I  felt  it  go  into  my  back,  but  did  not  take  much  notice 
of  it  at  the  time,  and  went  on  serving  the  gun.  Mr. 
Mundy  had  taken  the  place  of  Mr.  Marsden,  the  left- 
section  officer.  The  latter  had  gone  out  from  home 
with  us ;  but  he  had  been  badly  wounded  at  Mons, 
where  a  shrapnel  bullet  went  through  the  roof  of  his 
mouth  and  came  out  of  his  neck.  In  spite  of  that 
dreadful  injury,  however,  he  stuck  bravely  to  his 
section. 

I  am  getting  on  a  bit  too  fast,  perhaps,  so  I  will 
return  to  the  time  when  I  had  to  leave  the  seat  of 
the  gun  owing  to  the  way  in  which  the  concussion 
had  affected  me.  When  I  felt  a  little  better  I  began 
to  help  Driver  Osborne  to  fetch  ammunition  from 


L  BATTERY'S  HEROIC   STAND         125 

the  waggons.  I  had  just  managed  to  get  back  to 
the  gun  with  an  armful  of  ammunition,  when  a  lyddite 
shell  exploded  behind  me,  threw  me  to  the  ground, 
and  partly  stunned  me. 

I  was  on  the  ground  for  what  seemed  to  be  about 
five  minutes  and  thought  I  was  gone ;  but  when  I 
came  round  I  got  up  and  found  that  I  was  uninjured. 
On  looking  round,  however,  I  saw  that  Captain  Brad- 
bury, who  had  played  a  splendid  part  in  getting  the 
guns  into  action,  had  been  knocked  down  by  the 
same  shell  that  floored  me.  I  had  been  thrown  on 
my  face,  Captain  Bradbury  had  been  knocked  down 
backwards,  and  he  was  about  two  yards  away  from 
me.  When  I  came  to  my  senses  I  went  up  to  him 
and  saw  that  he  was  mortally  wounded.  He  expired 
a  few  minutes  afterwards.  Though  the  captain  knew 
that  death  was  very  near,  he  thought  of  his  men  to 
the  last,  and  repeatedly  begged  to  be  carried  away, 
so  that  they  should  not  be  upset  by  seeing  him  or 
hearing  the  cries  which  he  could  not  restrain.  Two 
of  the  men  who  were  wounded,  and  were  lying  in  the 
shelter  of  a  neighbouring  haystack,  crawled  up  and 
managed  to  take  the  captain  back  with  them;  but 
he  died  almost  as  soon  as  the  haystack  was  reached. 

By  this  time  our  little  camp  was  an  utter  wreck. 
Horses  and  men  were  lying  everywhere,  some  of  the 
horses  absolutely  blown  to  pieces ;  waggons  and  guns 
were  turned  upside  down,  and  all  around  was  the  ruin 
caused  by  the  German  shells.  The  camp  was  littered 
with  fragments  of  shell  and  our  own  cartridge-cases, 
while  the  ground  looked  as  if  it  had  been  ploughed 
and  harrowed  anyhow.  Nearly  all  the  officers  and 
men  had  been  either  killed  or  wounded. 

It  is   no   exaggeration  to  say  that  the   Germans 


126    SOLDIERS'   STORIES  OF  THE   WAR 

literally  rained  shrapnel  and  bullets  on  us.  A  German 
shell  is  filled  with  about  three  hundred  bullets,  so 
that  with  two  or  three  shells  bursting  you  get  as  big 
a  cloud  of  bullets  as  you  would  receive  from  a  battalion 
of  infantry. 

The  Germans  had  ten  of  their  guns  and  two  machine- 
guns  going,  and  it  is  simply  marvellous  that  every 
man  and  horse  in  our  battery  was  not  destroyed. 
Bear  in  mind,  too,  that  the  German  artillery  was  not 
all  field-guns — they  had  big  guns  with  them,  and  they 
fired  into  us  with  the  simple  object  of  wiping  us  out. 
That  is  quite  all  right,  of  course ;  but  they  never  gave 
a  thought  to  our  wounded — they  went  for  them  just 
as  mercilessly  as  they  bombarded  the  rest. 

There  was  a  little  farmhouse  in  our  camp,  an 
ordinary  French  farm  building  with  a  few  round 
haystacks  near  it.  When  the  fight  began,  we  thought 
of  using  this  building  as  a  hospital;  but  it  was  so 
clear  that  the  place  was  an  absolute  death-trap  that 
we  gave  up  that  idea  very  quickly,  and  got  our  wounded 
under  the  shelter  of  one  of  the  haystacks,  where  they 
were  pretty  safe  so  long  as  the  stack  did  not  catch 
fire,  because  a  good  thick  stack  will  resist  even  direct 
artillery  fire  in  a  wonderful  manner.  But  the  Ger- 
mans got  their  guns  on  this  particular  stack,  and  it 
was  a  very  bad  look-out  for  our  poor,  helpless  fellows, 
many  of  whom  had  been  badly  mangled. 

As  for  the  farmhouse  it  was  blown  to  pieces,  as  I 
saw  afterwards  when  I  visited  it,  and  not  a  soul  could 
have  lived  in  the  place.  Walls,  windows,  roof,  ceilings 
— all  were  smashed,  and  the  furniture  was  in  frag- 
ments. A  building  like  that  was  a  fair  target;  but 
the  haystack  was  different,  and  the  Germans  did  a 
thing  that  no  British  gunners  would  have  done.  At 


L   BATTERY'S  HEROIC   STAND         127 

that  short  distance  they  could  see  perfectly  clearly 
what  was  happening — they  could  see  that  as  our 
wounded  fell  we  got  hold  of  them  and  dragged  them 
out  of  the  deadly  hail  to  the  shelter  of  the  stack,  about 
a  score  of  yards  away,  to  comparative  safety.  Notic- 
ing this,  one  of  the  German  officers  immediately  con- 
centrated a  heavy  shell  fire  on  the  heap  of  wounded — 
thirty  or  forty  helpless  men — in  an  attempt  to  set 
fire  to  the  stack.  That  was  a  deliberate  effort  to 
destroy  wounded  men.  We  saw  that,  and  the  sight 
helped  us  to  put  more  strength  into  our  determination 
to  smash  the  German  guns. 

The  Germans  were  mad  to  wipe  us  out,  and  I  know 
that  for  my  own  part  I  would  not  have  fallen  into 
their  clutches  alive.  My  mind  was  quite  made  up 
on  that  point,  for  I  had  seen  many  a  British  soldier 
who  had  fallen  on  the  roadside,  dead  beat,  and  gone 
to  sleep — and  slept  for  the  last  time  when  the  Germans 
came  up.  On  a  previous  occasion  we  passed  through 
one  place  where  there  had  been  a  fight — it  must  have 
been  in  the  darkness — and  the  wounded  had  been 
put  in  a  cemetery,  the  idea  being  that  the  Germans 
would  not  touch  a  cemetery.  That  idea  proved  to 
be  wrong.  One  of  the  German  aeroplanes  that  were 
constantly  hovering  over  the  battery  had  given  some 
German  batteries  our  position,  but  we  got  away,  and 
the  German  gunners,  enraged  at  our  escape,  instantly 
dropped  shells  into  the  cemetery,  to  wipe  the  wounded 
out.  If  they  would  do  that  they  would  not  hesitate 
to  fire  deliberately  on  our  wounded  under  the  hay- 
stack— and  they  did  not  hesitate. 

It  was  not  many  minutes  after  the  fight  began  in 
the  mist  when  only  number  six  gun  was  left  in  the 
battery,  and  four  of  us  survived  to  serve  it  —  the 


128    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

sergeant-major,  who  had  taken  command;  Sergeant 
Nelson,  myself,  and  Driver  Osborne,  and  we  fired  as 
fast  as  we  could  in  a  noise  that  was  now  more  terrible 
than  ever  and  in  a  little  camp  that  was  utter  wreckage. 
There  was  the  ceaseless  din  of  screaming,  bursting 
shells,  the  cries  of  the  wounded,  for  whom  we  could 
do  something,  but  not  much,  and  the  cries  of  the  poor 
horses,  for  which  we  could  do  nothing.  The  noise 
they  made  was  like  the  grizzling  of  a  child  that  is  not 
well — a  very  pitiful  sound,  but,  of  course,  on  a  much 
bigger  scale;  and  that  sound  of  suffering  went  up 
from  everywhere  around  us,  because  everywhere  there 
were  wounded  horses. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  managed  to  silence  several 
German  guns.  But  very  soon  Sergeant  Nelson  was 
severely  wounded  by  a  bursting  shell,  and  that  left 
only  three  of  us. 

The  Bays'  horses,  like  our  own,  had  been  either 
killed  or  wounded  or  had  bolted,  but  the  men  had 
managed  to  get  down  on  the  right  of  us  and  take 
cover  under  the  steep  bank  of  the  road,  and  from 
that  position,  which  was  really  a  natural  trench,  they 
fired  destructively  on  the  Germans. 

British  cavalry,  dismounted,  have  done  some 
glorious  work  in  this  great  war,  but  they  have  done 
nothing  finer,  I  think,  than  their  work  near  Compiegne 
on  that  September  morning.  And  of  all  the  splendid 
work  there  was  none  more  splendid  than  the  per- 
formance of  a  lance-corporal,  who  actually  planted  a 
maxim  on  his  own  knees  and  rattled  into  the  Germans 
with  it.  There  was  plenty  of  kick  in  the  job,  but  he 
held  on  gamely,  and  he  must  have  done  heavy  execu- 
tion with  his  six  hundred  bullets  a  minute. 

This  rifle  and  maxim  fire  of  the  Bays  had  a  wonderful 


[To  face  p.  128. 

PLANTED    A   MAXIM   ON   HIS    OWN    KNEES    AND    RATTLED    INTO 

THE    GERMANS." 


L  BATTERY'S  HEROIC   STAND         129 

effect  in  silencing  the  German  fire,  and  it  helped  us 
greatly  when  we  came  to  the  last  stage  of  the  duel. 

I  don't  know  how  many  of  the  Bays  there  were, 
but  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  charge,  even  if  they 
had  had  their  horses,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  road 
in  front  of  us  was  a  deep  cutting.  If  the  cutting  had 
not  been  there  the  Uhlans,  who  alone  considerably 
outnumbered  us,  would  have  swept  down  on  us  and 
there  would  not  have  been  anyone  left  in  L  Battery 
at  any  rate. 

By  the  time  we  had  practically  silenced  the  German 
guns  the  three  of  us  who  were  surviving  were  utterly 
exhausted.  Osborne,  who  was  kneeling  beside  a  wag- 
gon wheel,  had  a  narrow  escape  from  being  killed. 
A  shell  burst  between  the  wheel  and  the  waggon  body, 
tore  the  wheel  off,  and  sent  the  spokes  flying  all  over 
the  place.  One  of  the  spokes  caught  Osborne  just 
over  the  ribs  and  knocked  him  over,  backwards. 

I  looked  round  on  hearing  the  explosion  of  the  shell, 
and  said,  "  I  think  Osborne's  gone  this  time,"  but  we 
were  thankful  to  find  that  he  was  only  knocked  over. 
One  of  his  ribs  was  fractured,  but  we  did  not  know  of 
this  till  afterwards. 

Meanwhile,  the  men  who  had  gone  to  water  the 
horses  of  the  left-half  battery  had  heard  the  firing? 
and  had  tried  hard  to  get  back  to  help  us ;  but  they 
were  met  on  the  road  by  an  officer,  who  said  that  the 
battery  was  practically  annihilated,  and  it  would  be 
useless  for  them  to  return.  The  Germans  had  seen 
them  watering  the  horses,  and  had  begun  to  shell 
the  sugar  factory.  This  caused  the  remaining  horses 
of  the  battery  to  gallop  away,  and  a  lot  of  them  were 
killed  as  they  galloped,  though  a  good  many  got 
away  and  were  afterwards  found  in  the  neighbouring 


130     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

town  of  Compiegne,  wandering  about.  As  for  the 
men,  they  "  mooched  "  in  any  direction  as  stragglers, 
and  eventually  we  came  up  with  them. 

The  three  of  us  had  served  the  gun  and  kept  it  in 
action  till  it  was  almost  too  hot  to  work,  and  we  were 
nearly  worn  out ;  but  we  went  on  firing,  and  with  a 
good  heart,  for  we  knew  that  the  Germans  had  been 
badly  pounded,  that  the  Bays  had  them  in  a  grip, 
and  that  another  battery  of  horse -gunners  was  dash- 
ing to  the  rescue.  On  they  came,  in  glorious  style — 
there  is  no  finer  sight  than  that  of  a  horse  battery 
galloping  into  action. 

Two  or  three  miles  away  from  us  I  Battery 
had  heard  the  heavy  firing,  and  knew  that  something 
must  be  happening  to  us.  Round  they  turned,  and 
on  they  dashed,  taking  everything  before  them  and 
stopping  for  nothing  till  they  reached  a  ridge  about 
2000  yards  away;  then  they  unlimbered  and  got 
into  action,  and  never  was  there  grander  music 
heard  than  that  which  greeted  the  three  of  us  who 
were  left  in  L  Battery  when  the  saving  shells  of 
" 1  "  screamed  over  us  and  put  the  finish  to  the 
German  rout. 

In  a  speech  made  to  I  Battery  Sir  John  French 
said — 

"  No  branch  of  the  Service  has  done  better  work 
in  this  campaign  than  the  Royal  Horse  Artillery.  It 
is  impossible  to  pick  out  one  occasion  more  than 
another  during  this  campaign  on  which  I  Battery 
has  specially  distinguished  itself,  because  the  battery 
has  always  done  brilliant  work.  Your  general  tells 
me  that  you  were  in  action  continuously  for  ten 
days.  .  .  ." 

We  had  been  pretty  well  hammered  out  of  existence, 


L  BATTERY'S  HEROIC   STAND        131 

but  we  had  a  kick  left  in  us,  and  we  gave  it,  and  what 
with  this  and  the  Bays  and  the  bashing  by  the  fresh 
battery,  the  Germans  soon  had  enough  of  it,  and  for 
the  time  being  they  made  no  further  effort  to  molest 
us. 

At  last  the  fight  was  finished.  We  had — thank 
God  ! — saved  the  guns,  and  the  Germans,  despite 
their  frantic  efforts,  had  made  no  progress,  and  had 
only  a  heap  of  dead  and  wounded  and  a  lot  of  battered 
guns  to  show  for  their  attempt  to  smash  us  in  the 
morning  mist.  We  had  kept  them  off  day  after  day, 
and  we  kept  them  off  again.  We  had  been  badly 
punished,  but  we  had  mauled  them  terribly  in  the 
fight,  which  lasted  about  an  hour. 

Three  of  our  guns  had  been  disabled,  two  waggons 
blown  up,  and  many  wheels  blown  off  the  waggons. 

Some  strange  things  had  happened  between  Mons 
and  Compiegne,  and  now  that  the  duel  had  ended 
we  had  a  chance  of  recollecting  them  and  counting 
up  the  cost  to  us.  Corporal  Wheeler  Carnham  was 
knocked  down  while  trying  to  stop  a  runaway  ammu- 
nition waggon,  and  one  of  the  wheels  went  over  his 
legs.  He  managed  to  get  on  his  feet  again,  but  he 
had  no  sooner  done  so  than  he  was  struck  on  the  legs 
by  a  piece  of  shell.  At  Compiegne  two  gunners  were 
blown  to  pieces  and  could  not  be  identified.  Driver 
Laws  had  both  legs  broken  by  a  waggon  which  turned 
over  at  Mons,  and  afterwards  the  waggon  was  blown 
up,  and  he  went  with  it.  Shoeing-Smith  Heath 
was  standing  alongside  me  at  Compiegne  when  the 
firing  began.  I  told  him  to  keep  his  head  down, 
but  he  didn't  do  so — and  lost  it.  The  farrier  was 
badly  wounded,  and  the  quartermaster-sergeant  was 
knocked  down  and  run  over  by  an  ammunition 


132    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

waggon.  Gunner  Huddle,  a  signaller,  was  looking 
through  his  glasses  to  try  to  find  out  where  the  shells 
were  coming  from,  when  he  was  struck  on  the  head 
by  a  piece  of  bursting  shell. 

Our  commanding  officer,  Major  the  Hon.  W.  D. 
Sclater-Booth,  was  standing  behind  the  battery, 
dismounted,  as  we  all  were,  observing  the  fall  of  the 
shells,  when  he  was  hit  by  a  splinter  from  a  bursting 
shell  and  severely  wounded.  He  was  removed,  and 
we  did  not  see  him  again  until  we  were  on  the  way 
to  the  base.  As  far  as  I  remember,  he  was  taken 
off  by  one  of  the  cavalry  officers  from  the  Bays. 

Lieutenant  Giffard,  our  right  section  officer,  was 
injured  early  in  the  fight  by  a  shell  which  shattered 
his  left  knee,  and  he  was  taken  and  placed  with  the 
rest  of  the  wounded  behind  the  haystack,  where  in 
a  very  short  time  they  were  literally  piled  up.  As 
soon  as  the  officers  and  men  fell  we  did  the  best  we 
could  for  them ;  but  all  we  could  do  was  just  simply 
to  drag  them  out  of  the  danger  of  the  bursting  shells. 
Luckily,  this  particular  haystack  escaped  fairly  well, 
but  very  soon  after  the  fight  began  nearly  every  hay- 
stack in  the  camp  was  blazing  fiercely,  set  on  fire  by 
the  German  shells. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  after  the  fight  was  to 
bury  our  dead  and  collect  our  wounded,  and  in  this 
sorrowful  task  we  were  helped  by  the  Middlesex 
Regiment — the  old  "  Die-Hards  "  — who  have  done 
so  splendidly  and  suffered  so  heavily  in  this  war. 
They,  like  I  Battery,  had  come  up,  and  we  were 
very  glad  to  see  them.  Some  of  our  gallant  wounded 
were  beyond  help,  because  of  the  shrapnel  fire. 

We  buried  our  dead  on  the  field  where  they  had 
fallen,  amidst  the  ruins  of  the  battery  they  had  fought 


L  BATTERY'S   HEROIC   STAND          133 

to  save,  and  with  the  fire  and  smoke  still  rising  from 
the  ruined  buildings  and  the  burning  haystacks. 

Another  thing  we  did  was  to  go  round  and  shoot 
the  poor  horses  that  were  hopelessly  hurt — and  a 
sorry  task  it  was.  One  waggon  we  went  to  had  five 
horses  killed — only  one  horse  was  left  out  of  the  six 
which  had  been  hooked  in  to  march  away  in  the  mist 
of  the  morning;  so  we  shot  him  and  put  him  out  of 
his  misery.  We  had  to  shoot  about  twenty  horses; 
but  the  rest  were  already  dead,  mostly  blown  to 
pieces  and  scattered  over  the  field — a  dreadful  sight. 

When  we  had  buried  the  dead,  collected  our 
wounded,  and  destroyed  our  helpless  horses,  the  guns 
of  our  battery  were  limbered  up  on  to  sound  waggon 
limbers,  and  a  pair  of  horses  were  borrowed  from 
each  sub-section  of  I  Battery  to  take  them  away. 
Everything  else  was  left  behind — waggons,  accoutre- 
ments, clothing,  caps,  and  so  on,  and  the  battery  was 
taken  to  a  little  village  about  four  miles  from  Com- 
piegne,  where  we  tried  to  snatch  a  bit  of  rest;  but 
we  had  no  chance  of  getting  it,  owing  to  the  harassing 
pursuit  of  big  bodies  of  Uhlans. 

From  that  time,  until  we  reached  the  base,  we 
wandered  about  as  best  we  could,  and  managed  to 
live  on  what  we  could  get,  which  was  not  much.  We 
were  in  a  pretty  sorry  state,  most  of  us  without  caps 
or  jackets,  and  we  obtained  food  from  other  units 
that  we  passed  on  the  road. 

We  were  marching,  dismounted,  day  and  night,  till 
we  reached  the  rail-head,  where  I  was  transferred  to 
the  base  and  sent  home.  The  sergeant-major  and 
Osborne  came  home  at  the  same  time,  and  the 
sergeant-major  is  now  a  commissioned  officer.  So 
is  Sergeant  Nelson. 


134     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

After  such  a  furious  fight  and  all  the  hardships 
and  sufferings  of  Mons  and  the  retreat,  it  seems 
strange  and  unreal  to  be  back  in  peaceful  London. 
I  don't  know  what  will  happen  to  me,  of  course,  but 
whatever  comes  I  earnestly  hope  that  some  day  I 
shall  be  able  to  go  back  to  the  little  camp  where  we 
fought  in  the  morning  mist  in  such  a  deadly  hail  of 
shell,  and  look  at  the  resting-places  of  the  brave 
officers  and  men  who  gave  their  lives  to  save  the 
battery  they  loved  so  well. 


CHAPTER  XI 

SIXTEEN   WEEKS    OF   FIGHTING 

[Indomitable  cheerfulness  and  consistent  courage  are  two 
of  the  outstanding  features  of  the  conduct  of  the  British  soldier 
in  the  war,  and  these  qualities  are  finely  shown  in  this  story 
of  some  of  the  doings  of  the  1st  Battalion  Queen's  Own  Royal 
West  Kent  Regiment,  which  has  greatly  distinguished  itself 
and  suffered  heavily.  Private  Montgomery  is  a  member  of  a 
fighting  family,  for  he  has  a  brother  in  the  Royal  Navy,  two 
brothers  in  the  Rifle  Brigade,  one  in  the  Army  Service  Corps, 
and  one  in  the  Royal  Army  Medical  Corps,  so  that  there  are 
six  brothers  serving  their  country  in  this  time  of  urgent  need.] 

I  DON'T  know  whether  you  have  seen  the  picture  of 
the  retreat  from  Moscow,  showing  everybody  going 
along  in  a  drove,  this,  that,  and  the  other  way. 
You  know  it?  Well,  that  wasn't  a  patch  on  some 
parts  of  the  great  retirement  on  Paris;  but  there 
was  this  enormous  difference,  that  the  retreat  from 
Moscow  was  just  that  and  nothing  more,  while  our 
retirement  was  simply  the  beginning  of  what  was  to 
be  a  splendid  victory. 

It  led  up  to  the  present  tremendous  fighting  and 
this  terrific  trench  work;  and  let  me  say  that  it 
is  impossible  for  anybody  who  has  not  taken  part 
in  that  trench  warfare  to  realise  what  it  means. 
Words  and  pictures  will  enable  you  to  understand 
the  life  to  some  extent,  but  only  by  sharing  in  it 
will  you  fully  realise  its  awful  meaning. 

But  I'm  not  grumbling — I'm  only  stating  a  fact. 

135 


136     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Trench  life  is  hard  and  dismal  work,  especially  in  a 
winter  like  this;  but  everything  that  it  has  been 
possible  to  do  for  the  British  soldier  by  the  folk  at 
home  has  been  done. 

Look  at  this — one  of  the  new  skin  coats  that  have 
been  served  out  to  us.  This  is  the  way  we  wear  it — 
yes,  it  certainly  does  smell,  but  it's  goat-skin,  and 
might  have  done  with  a  bit  more  curing — and  I  can 
tell  you  that  it  takes  a  lot  of  even  the  wet  and  wind 
of  the  Low  Countries  to  get  through  the  fur  and 
skin.  These  coats  are  splendid,  and  a  perfect  god- 
send. 

I  won't  attempt  to  tell  you  about  things  exactly 
as  they  happened;  I'll  talk  of  them  just  as  they 
come  into  my  mind,  so  that  you  can  understand 
what  the  Royal  West  Rents  have  done. 

I  can  speak,  I  hope,  as  a  fully-trained  soldier,  for 
I  served  eight  years  with  the  colours  and  two  years 
in  the  Reserve  before  I  was  called  up,  and  I  did 
seven  years  abroad,  in  China,  Singapore,  and  India; 
so  I  had  got  into  the  way  of  observing  things  that 
interest  a  soldier. 

Well,  one  of  my  first  and  worst  experiences  was 
when  at  about  ten-thirty  at  night  the  order  for  a 
general  retirement  was  given,  but  through  some  mis- 
take that  order  did  not  reach  a  sergeant  and  fourteen 
of  the  West  Kents,  of  whom  I  was  one,  and  it  was 
not  until  just  before  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
that  we  got  the  word,  and  began  to  try  and  pull 
ourselves  out  of  it. 

The  Germans  were  then  not  more  than  eighty 
yards  away  from  us,  and  our  position  was  desperate. 
To  make  matters  worse,  the  bridge  by  which  we 
had  to  get  across  a  neighbouring  canal  had  been 


SIXTEEN   WEEKS   OF   FIGHTING       137 

blown  up,  but  as  it  happened  the  detonator  on  the 
overhead  part  of  the  bridge  had  not  exploded,  so 
that  there  was  still  a  sort  of  communication  across 
the  water. 

The  bridge  was  full  of  wire  entanglements  and 
broken  chains — a  mass  of  metal  wreckage — and  the 
only  way  of  crossing  was  to  scramble  along  the  ruins 
and  crawl  along  what  had  been  the  iron  parapet, 
which  was  only  eight  or  nine  inches  wide.  You  will 
best  understand  what  I  mean  if  you  imagine  one 
of  the  iron  bridges  over  the  Thames  destroyed,  and 
that  the  principal  thing  left  is  the  flat-topped  iron 
side  which  you  often  see. 

Under  a  terrible  fire  we  made  for  the  parapet  and 
got  on  to  it  as  best  we  could.  I  was  the  last  man  but 
one  to  get  on  to  it.  Just  in  front  of  me  was  Lance- 
corporal  Gibson,  and  just  behind  me  was  Private 
Bailey. 

With  the  Germans  so  near,  so  many  of  them,  and 
keeping  up  such  a  heavy  fire  on  us,  you  can  imagine 
what  it  meant  to  crawl  along  a  twisted  parapet  like 
that.  The  marvel  is  that  a  single  one  of  us  escaped, 
but  a  few  of  us  did,  which  was  no  credit  to  the  German 
marksmanship. 

The  bullets  whizzed  and  whistled  around  us  and 
very  soon  both  the  man  in  front  of  me  and  the  man 
behind  were  struck. 

The  corporal  was  knocked  straight  over  and  dis- 
appeared. Bailey  was  shot  through  the  instep,  but 
he  managed  to  hold  on  to  the  parapet,  and  to  make 
a  very  singular  request. 

"  Mont,"  he  said,  "  come  and  take  my  boot  off !  " 

I  turned  round  and  saw  what  had  happened  to 
him ;  but,  of  course,  it  wasn't  possible  to  do  what  he 


138     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

asked,  when  it  needed  every  bit  of  one's  strength 
and  skill  to  hang  on  to  the  parapet  and  keep  crawling, 
so  I  cried  back,  "  Never  mind  about  taking  your 
boot  off — come  on  !  " 

It  was  no  use  saying  anything;  poor  chap,  he 
would  insist  on  having  his  boot  off,  so  I  said,  "  For 
Heaven's  sake  get  along,  or  we  shall  all  get  knocked 
over  !  "  And  with  that  I  started  to  crawl  again,  and 
to  get  ahead  as  best  I  could. 

The  corporal,  as  I  have  said,  had  gone;  he  had 
been  hit  right  between  the  shoulder-blades,  and  I  just 
saw  him  roll  over  into  the  horrible  barbed-wire 
entanglements. 

What  exactly  happened  to  poor  Bailey  I  don't  know. 
I  hadn't  a  chance  of  looking  back,  but  I  heard  after- 
wards that  both  he  and  the  corporal  were  found  lying 
there,  dead,  with  their  faces  spattered  with  blood. 

At  last,  after  what  seemed  like  a  miraculous 
escape,  I  got  clear  of  the  parapet,  with  a  few  more, 
and  landed  safely  on  the  other  side  of  the  canal, 
looking  for  the  West  Kents;  but  it  had  been  im- 
possible to  re-form  any  battalion,  and  regiments 
were  walking  about  like  flocks  of  sheep.  Efforts 
were  being  made  to  re-form  our  own  men,  but  at 
that  time  there  was  no  chance  of  doing  so. 

It  was  the  sight  of  these  disorganised  and  wander- 
ing soldiers  that  brought  to  my  mind  the  picture  of 
the  retreat  from  Moscow. 

It  was  not  until  we  reached  Le  Cateau  that  the 
handful  of  us  rejoined  the  regiment,  and  so  far  as 
fighting  went  we  merely  changed  from  bad  to  worse. 

At  Le  Cateau  the  West  Kents  held  the  second 
line  of  trenches,  and  the  Yorkshire  Light  Infantry 
were  in  the  first  line,  so  that  we  were  supporting 


SIXTEEN   WEEKS   OF   FIGHTING       139 

them.  We  had  the  121st  and  122nd  Batteries  of  the 
Royal  Field  Artillery  in  front  of  us — and  no  troops 
could  wish  for  better  gunners  than  the  British. 

We  got  into  the  trenches  at  about  four-thirty  on 
the  morning  of  the  26th,  and  remained  in  them  for 
something  like  twelve  hours,  and  during  that  time 
we  took  part  in  what  was  probably  the  fiercest 
battle  that  had  ever  been  fought  up  to  that  time, 
though  there  was  worse  to  follow  in  the  Ypres  region. 
We  were  rather  unlucky,  as  it  happened,  because 
we  were  forced  to  lie  in  the  trenches  and  watch  the 
other  regiments  and  our  artillery  shelling  the  enemy 
without  our  being  able  to  fire  a  shot,  for  we  were 
so  placed  that  we  could  not  do  anything  effective 
against  the  enemy  just  then. 

The  Yorkshire  Light  Infantry  retired,  and  then 
came  the  order  for  the  West  Kents  to  go.  It  was 
an  order  that  needed  the  greatest  care  and  courage 
to  carry  out,  but  it  had  been  given,  and,  of  course, 
the  West  Kents  always  do  just  what  they  are  told 
to  do.  We  did  so  now,  with  the  result,  I  am  proud 
to  say,  that  we  carried  out  Colonel  Martyn's  command 
to  the  letter. 

"  Don't  get  excited  in  any  way,"  he  said.  "  Just 
go  off  as  if  you  were  on  battalion  parade." 

And  we  did,  and  the  colonel  showed  us  how  to  do 
it,  for  he  walked  off  just  as  he  might  have  walked 
off  the  barrack  square,  though  all  the  time  we  were 
under  heavy  shell  fire  and  our  men  were  falling. 
We  lost  a  fair  number,  but  not  many,  considering 
the  nature  of  the  fire  upon  us. 

We  got  as  far  as  St.  Quentin,  which  is  a  big  town, 
trying  to  find  out  where  our  regiment  had  gone; 
but  we  got  cold  comfort,  for  a  man  came  up  and 


140     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

said  :  "  It's  no  good  going  in  there.  The  town's 
surrounded.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  put 
down  your  arms  and  surrender." 

We  didn't  relish  the  surrender  suggestion,  and  we 
started  to  make  inquiries.  A  sergeant  who  spoke 
French  went  up  to  a  gendarme  who  was  at  the  side 
of  the  railway  station,  and  asked  him  if  it  was  true 
that  the  town  was  surrounded. 

The  gendarme  replied  that  he  didn't  know,  but  he 
believed  the  statement  was  true ;  anyway  he  advised 
us  to  remain  where  we  were. 

Not  satisfied  with  that,  about  half  a  dozen  of  us 
went  up  to  a  French  cavalry  officer  and  put  the 
question  to  him. 

The  cavalry  officer,  like  the  gendarme,  said  he 
didn't  know,  but  told  us  that  the  best  thing  we  could 
do  was  to  go  on  to  a  place,  which  he  named,  about 
eight  miles  away,  and  off  we  went;  but  before  we 
reached  it  we  came  across  a  cavalry  division,  and 
learned  that  it  was  not  safe  to  go  farther.  Again 
we  were  advised  to  remain  where  we  were,  and  we 
did  for  the  time  being. 

It  was  not  until  later  that  we  discovered  what  a 
narrow  escape  we  had  had,  for  three  German  cavalry 
divisions  had  been  ordered  to  pursue  the  retiring 
troops  hereabouts,  but  through  a  blunder  the  order 
had  miscarried  and  the  Uhlans  did  not  follow  us. 

In  such  a  serious  business  as  this  we  had,  of  course, 
lost  heavily,  and  we  continued  to  lose.  Major 
Buckle,  D.S.O.,  one  of  the  bravest  men  that  ever 
stepped  in  a  pair  of  shoes  in  the  British  Army,  lost 
his  life  in  attempting  to  distribute  the  West  Kents. 
That  is  merely  one  of  many  instances  of  officers  and 
men  who  were  killed  under  fire. 


SIXTEEN   WEEKS   OF  FIGHTING       141 

Sometimes  men  were  lost  in  the  most  extraordinary 
manner,  especially  owing  to  shell  fire.  At  one  time 
about  six  big  shells  burst,  and  in  the  wreckage  caused 
by  one  of  the  explosions  ten  men  were  buried. 

Men  volunteered  to  go  and  try  to  dig  these  poor 
fellows  out,  but  as  fast  as  the  volunteers  got  to 
work  they,  too,  were  shelled  and  buried,  so  that  in 
the  end  about  thirty  men  were  buried — buried  alive. 
It  was  useless  to  attempt  to  continue  such  a  forlorn 
hope,  and  it  was  impossible  to  dig  the  men  out,  so 
they  had  to  be  left.  It  was  hard  to  do  this,  but 
there  was  nothing  else  for  it. 

Bodies  of  men  were  lost,  too,  as  prisoners,  when 
overpowering  numbers  of  Germans  had  to  be  met, 
or  when  the  Germans  rushed  unarmed  men  and  left 
them  no  alternative  to  capture.  A  doctor  and 
twenty-five  men  of  the  West  Kents  who  were  acting 
as  stretcher-bearers  were  taken.  Very  splendid  work 
is  done  by  the  stretcher-bearers,  who  go  to  the 
trenches  every  night  to  collect  the  wounded,  and 
bring  them  in  to  the  hospitals.  All  sorts  of  buildings 
and  places  are  used  as  hospitals,  and  in  this  case  it  was 
the  cellar  of  a  house  in  a  village  that  was  utilised.  The 
men  were  not  armed,  as  they  were  acting  as  members 
of  the  Royal  Army  Medical  Corps,  to  render  first  aid. 

Just  about  midnight  the  Germans  broke  through 
the  line  and  surrounded  the  village,  and  rushed  in  and 
captured  the  stretcher-bearers,  and  took  them  off,  no 
doubt  thinking  they  had  gallantly  won  a  very  fine  prize. 

I  remember  this  particular  occasion  well,  because 
on  the  following  morning  we  were  reinforced  by  some 
of  the  native  Bhopal  Infantry,  from  India,  and  that 
took  me  back  to  the  time  I  spent  in  that  country. 
Little  did  I  think  in  those  days,  when  we  were  asso- 


142     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

elated  so  much  with  the  troops  of  the  Indian  Army, 
that  the  day  would  come  when,  in  the  heart  of  winter, 
we  and  the  Indians  would  be  fighting  side  by  side  in 
the  awful  Low  Countries. 

I  got  used  to  the  heat  of  the  day  and  the  cold  of 
the  night  in  India,  but  it  wasn't  easy  to  become 
accustomed  to  the  sweltering  heat  of  the  earlier  days 
of  the  war,  or  the  bitter  cold  of  the  winter. 

One  day,  not  long  before  I  came  home,  we  had 
six  miles  to  do,  after  a  very  heavy  fall  of  snow. 
We  ploughed  through  the  snow  in  the  daytime,  and 
at  night  we  travelled  in  the  transport,  but  what 
with  the  snow  by  day  and  the  bitter  freezing  by 
night,  we  were  fourteen  hours  covering  that  short 
distance — which  works  out  at  something  under  half 
a  mile  an  hour.  And  that  was  the  roundabout  way 
we  had  to  go  to  get  at  some  enemy  trenches  which 
were  only  about  fifty  yards  away  from  us.  But,  in 
spite  of  this  terrific  weather,  we  had  only  one  or 
two  cases  of  frost-bite. 

A  change  on  trench  work  and  actual  fighting  came 
with  my  being  told  off  as  an  ammunition  carrier. 
There  are  two  ammunition  carriers  to  each  company, 
and  our  duty  was  to  keep  the  firing  line  well  supplied 
with  ammunition.  This  we  fetched  from  the  pack- 
mules,  which  were  some  distance  away,  and  we  took 
it  to  the  men  in  the  firing  line  in  bandoliers,  which  we 
filled  from  the  boxes  carried  by  the  mules.  It  was 
lively  work,  especially  when  the  mules  turned  awk- 
ward and  the  firing  was  hot;  but  we  got  through  it 
all  right — Lance-Corporal  Tweedale  and  myself. 

One  night,  when  the  shell  and  rifle  fire  was  very 
heavy,  we  went  up  to  the  firing  line  with  ammunition, 
which  was  badly  wanted,  and  we  had  such  a  hot 


SIXTEEN   WEEKS   OF  FIGHTING       143 

time  of  it  that  the  officer  in  charge  advised  us  to 
remain  for  a  couple  of  hours,  till  the  firing  slackened 
or  ceased;  but  we  had  a  feeling  that  it  would  be 
more  comfortable  in  the  rear,  and  as  the  matter 
rested  with  us  we  started  off  to  get  back. 

This  was  one  of  the  most  uncomfortable  bits  of 
journeying  I  ever  undertook,  for  in  order  to  shelter 
from  the  fire  of  the  Germans,  which  threatened  every 
second  to  kill  us,  we  had  to  crawl  along  a  ditch  for  fully 
three-quarters  of  a  mile.  We  crawled  along  in  the 
darkness,  with  the  bullets  whizzing  and  shells  bursting ; 
but  we  lay  low,  and  at  last  got  out  of  it  and  landed 
back  at  the  rear,  which  was  certainly  more  agreeable 
than  being  in  the  very  thick  of  the  firing  line. 

I  am  proud  to  be  one  of  the  Royal  West  Rents, 
because  they  have  done  so  well  in  this  great  war. 
"  Give  'em  a  job  and  they'll  do  it,"  a  general  said 
of  us,  just  after  Le  Cateau.  One  day  another  general 
said,  "  What  regiment  is  that  coming  out  of  the 
trenches  ?  "  The  answer  was,  "  The  Royal  West 
Kent,  sir,"  and  the  general  promptly  said,  "  For 
Heaven's  sake  give  them  a  rest — they've  earned  it !  " 
But  we  hadn't  gone  more  than  two  hundred  yards 
when  a  staff  officer  told  us  to  get  into  position  in  a 
field  and  dig  ourselves  in — and  we  were  the  last  out 
of  action  that  day. 

At  another  time,  when  we  had  been  hard  at  it, 
a  general  said  :  "  Come  on,  West  Kents  !  In  another 
half -hour  you'll  be  in  your  billets."  And  we  went 
on,  for  that  sounded  very  cheerful;  but,  instead  of 
going  into  billets,  we  had  half-an-hour's  rest  for  a 
drop  of  tea — then  we  went  on  outpost  duty  for  the 
night,  and  woke  in  the  morning  in  a  big  scrap. 

I  am  mentioning  these  things  just  to  show  how 


144     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

unexpectedly  disappointments  came  at  times;  but 
we  soon  got  into  the  way  of  taking  these  set-backs 
as  part  of  the  day's  work. 

When  the  winter  advanced,  the  strain  became  un- 
commonly severe,  but  we  were  able  to  bear  it  owing 
to  the  first-rate  system  of  relief  we  had — a  relief 
which  gave  us  as  much  change  as  possible  on  the 
confinement  and  hardship  of  the  actual  trenches. 

Some  very  strange  things  happened  in  the  trenches, 
and  none  were  stranger  than  those  cases  of  men 
being  in  them  for  long  periods  under  heavy  fire  and 
escaping  scot  free,  to  be  succeeded  by  others  who  lost 
their  lives  almost  as  soon  as  they  got  into  their  places. 

There  was  one  youngster — he  could  not  have  been 
more  than  seventeen  or  eighteen — who  had  been  in 
France  only  about  a  fortnight.  He  was  having  his 
second  day  in  the  trenches,  and,  like  a  good  many 
more  who  are  new  to  the  business,  he  was  curious 
to  see  what  was  going  on.  This  was  particularly 
dangerous,  as  the  Germans  were  only  sixty  yards 
away,  and  any  seen  movement  on  the  part  of  our 
men  brought  instant  fire. 

The  officer  kept  telling  the  youngster  to  keep 
down,  and  more  than  once  he  pulled  him  down; 
but  the  lad  seemed  fascinated  by  the  port -hole  of 
the  trench — the  loop-hole,  it  is  generally  called — and 
he  looked  through  it  again;  once  too  often,  for  a 
German  marksman  must  have  spotted  him.  Any- 
way, a  bullet  came  through  the  port-hole  and  struck 
the  lad  just  under  the  eye,  went  through  his  brain, 
and  killed  him  on  the  spot. 

I  will  give  you  another  curious  instance,  that  of 
Sergeant  Sharpe.  It  was  his  turn  to  be  in  reserve, 
but  he  had  volunteered  to  go  up  to  the  trenches, 


SIXTEEN   WEEKS   OF  FIGHTING       145 

to  look  round.  He  had  scarcely  had  time  to  put 
his  feet  in  them  before  a  shot  came  and  struck  him 
between  the  eyes,  killing  him  instantly. 

I  specially  remember  the  sad  case  of  the  inquisitive 
youngster,  because  it  happened  on  the  very  day  I 
was  wounded,  and  that  was  December  16.  I  was  in 
a  trench,  sitting  over  a  coke  fire  in  a  biscuit  tin, 
when  a  bullet  struck  me  on  the  chin — here's  the 
scar — then  went  to  the  back  of  the  trench,  where  it 
struck  a  fellow  on  the  head,  without  seriously  hurting 
him,  and  came  back  to  me,  hitting  me  just  over  the 
right  eye,  but  not  doing  any  serious  mischief.  After 
that  I  was  sent  into  hospital,  and  later  on  came  home. 

On  the  way  back  I  came  across  two  very  singular 
cases.  One  was  that  of  a  man  who  had  had  his 
arm  amputated  only  a  fortnight  previously,  and  he 
was  not  used  to  it.  He  used  to  turn  round  and  say, 
"  I  keep  putting  up  my  hand  to  scratch  the  back  of 
it — and  the  hand  isn't  there  !  " 

I  saw  another  poor  fellow — quite  a  youngster — 
who  was  being  carried  on  a  stretcher  to  the  train. 
Both  his  legs  had  been  blown  off  by  a  shell.  I  was 
right  alongside  when  he  said,  "  For  Heaven's  sake 
cover  up  my  feet — they're  cold  !  "  He  lived  for  about 
half  an  hour  after  that,  but  never  reached  the  train. 

There  is  one  thing  I  would  like  to  say  in  finishing, 
and  that  is  to  thank  our  own  flesh  and  blood  for 
what  they  have  done  for  us.  I'm  sure  there  never 
can  have  been  a  war  in  which  so  much  has  been 
done  in  the  way  of  sending  presents  like  cigarettes 
and  tobacco;  but  I  think  that  too  much  has  been 
sent  at  one  time,  and  that  friends  would  do  well  to 
keep  some  of  the  good  gifts  back  a  bit.  They  will 
all  be  wanted  later  on. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A   DAISY-CHAIN    OF   BANDOLIERS 

[In  this  story  we  become  acquainted  with  a  brilliant  bit  of 
work  done  by  our  brave  little  Gurkhas,  fresh  from  India,  and 
we  learn  of  a  splendid  achievement  under  a  deadly  fire — the 
sort  of  act  for  which  many  of  the  Victoria  Crosses  awarded 
recently  have  been  given.  The  teller  of  this  story  was,  at 
the  time  of  writing,  home  from  the  front.  He  is  Private  W.  H. 
Cooperwaite,  2nd  Battalion  Durham  Light  Infantry,  a  fine 
type  of  the  Northerners  who  have  done  so  much  and  suffered 
so  heavily  in  the  war.] 

I  WAS  wounded  at  Ypres — badly  bruised  in  the  back 
by  a  piece  of  a  "  Jack  Johnson."  There  is  nothing 
strange  in  that,  and  people  have  got  used  to  hearing 
of  these  German  shells;  but  the  main  thing  about 
this  particular  customer  was  that  it  was  the  only  one 
that  burst  out  of  eighteen  "  Jack  Johnsons "  I 
counted  at  one  time.  If  the  other  seventeen  had 
blown  up,  I  and  a  lot  more  of  the  Durhams  would 
not  have  been  left  alive.  That  same  shell  killed  two 
of  my  comrades. 

We  went  into  action  very  soon  after  leaving 
England.  We  had  had  plenty  of  tough  marching, 
and  on  the  way  we  grew  accustomed  to  the  terrible 
evidences  of  the  Germans'  outrages. 

In  one  place,  going  towards  Coulommiers,  we  came 
across  tracks  of  the  German  hosts.  They  had  ravaged 
and  destroyed  wherever  they  had  passed,  and  amongst 

146 


A  DAISY-CHAIN   OF  BANDOLIERS     147 

other  sights  our  battalion  saw  were  the  bodies  of 
two  young  girls  who  had  been  murdered.  The  men 
didn't  say  much  when  they  set  eyes  on  that,  but 
they  marched  a  good  deal  quicker,  and  so  far  from 
feeling  any  fear  about  meeting  the  Germans,  the  sole 
wish  was  to  get  at  them. 

After  a  four  days'  march  we  got  to  Coulommiers, 
where  we  came  up  with  the  French,  who  had  been 
holding  the  Germans  back  and  doing  fine  work.  That 
was  in  the  middle  of  September,  when  the  Battle  of 
the  Aisne  was  in  full  swing.  On  the  19th  we  went 
into  the  trenches,  and  after  a  spell  in  them  we  were 
billeted  in  a  house.  We  had  settled  down  nicely  and 
comfortably,  when  crash  came  a  shell,  and  so  tre- 
mendous was  the  mischief  it  did  that  we  had  only 
just  time  to  make  a  rush  and  clear  out  before  the 
house  collapsed. 

It  just  sort  of  fell  down,  as  if  it  was  tired  out, 
and  what  had  been  our  billet  was  a  gaping  ruin. 
That  was  the  kind  of  damage  which  was  being  done 
in  all  directions,  and  it  told  with  sorry  effect  on  those 
who  were  not  so  lucky  as  we  had  been,  and  were 
buried  in  the  smash.  All  the  cellars  were  crowded 
with  people  who  had  taken  refuge  in  them,  and  they 
lived  in  a  state  of  terror  and  misery  during  these 
continuous  bombardments  by  German  guns. 

After  that  lively  bit  of  billeting  we  returned  to 
the  trenches,  and  on  Sunday,  the  20th,  with  the 
West  Yorkshires  on  our  right,  we  were  in  the  very 
thick  of  heavy  fighting.  The  artillery  on  both  sides 
was  firing  furiously,  and  the  rifles  were  constantly 
going.  Our  own  fire  from  the  trenches  was  doing 
very  heavy  mischief  amongst  the  Germans,  and  they 
were  losing  men  at  such  a  rate  that  it  was  clear  to 


148    SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

them  that  they  would  have  to  take  some  means  of 
stopping  it,  or  get  so  badly  mauled  that  they  could 
not  keep  the  fight  going. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  curious  lull  in  the  fighting 
and  we  saw  that  a  perfect  horde  of  the  Germans 
were  marching  up  to  the  West  Yorkshires,  carrying 
a  huge  flag  of  truce. 

It  was  a  welcome  sight,  and  we  thought,  "  Here's 
a  bit  of  pie  for  the  Tykes — they  must  have  been 
doing  good."  They  had  lost  heavily,  but  it  seemed 
from  this  signal  of  surrender  that  they  were  to  be 
rewarded  for  their  losses. 

A  large  party  of  the  West  Yorkshires  went  out 
to  meet  the  Germans  with  the  flag,  and  I  watched 
them  go  up  until  they  were  within  fifty  yards  of  the 
enemy.  I  never  suspected  that  anything  wrong  would 
happen,  nor  did  the  West  Yorkshires,  for  the  surrender 
appeared  to  be  a  fair  and  aboveboard  business. 

When  only  that  short  distance  separated  the  Ger- 
mans and  the  West  Yorkshires,  the  leading  files  of 
the  surrender  party  fell  apart  like  clockwork  and 
there  were  revealed  to  us,  behind  the  flag  of  truce, 
stretchers  with  machine-guns  on  them,  and  these 
guns  were  set  to  work  at  point-blank  range  on  the 
West  Yorkshires,  who,  utterly  surprised  and  unpre- 
pared, were  simply  mown  down,  and  suffered  fearfully 
before  they  could  pull  themselves  together. 

Now,  this  dastardly  thing  was  done  in  full  view 
of  us ;  we  could  see  it  all,  and  our  blood  just  boiled. 
What  we  would  have  liked  best  of  all  was  a  bayonet 
charge;  but  the  Germans  were  too  far  off  for  the 
steel,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they  were  going  to  have  it 
all  their  own  way. 

They  had  given  us  a  surprise,   and  a  bad  one; 


A  DAISY-CHAIN   OF  BANDOLIERS     149 

but  we  had  a  worse  in  store  for  them — we  also  had 
machine-guns,  and  they  were  handy,  and  we  got 
them  to  work  on  the  dirty  tricksters  and  fairly  cut 
them  up.  The  whole  lot  seemed  to  stagger  as  our 
bullets  showered  into  them.  That  was  one  of  the 
cowardly  games  the  Germans  often  played  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war ;  but  it  did  not  take  the  British 
long  to  get  used  to  them,  and  very  soon  the  time 
came  when  no  risks  were  taken,  and  the  stretcher 
dodge  was  played  out. 

That  Sunday  brought  with  it  so,  j  heavy  fighting, 
and  some  very  sad  losses.  There  was  with  us  an 
officer  whose  family  name  is  very  particularly  asso- 
ciated with  the  Durham  Light  Infantry,  and  that 
was  Major  Robb,  as  good  and  brave  a  gentleman  as 
ever  breathed. 

After  that  proof  of  German  treachery  he  received 
information  that  the  Germans  meant  to  attack  us 
again;  but  Major  Robb  thought  it  would  be  better 
to  turn  things  about,  and  let  us  do  the  attacking.  I 
dare  say  he  was  burning  to  help  to  avenge  the  losses 
of  the  West  Yorkshires,  the  poor  fellows  who  were 
lying  dead  and  wounded  all  around  us. 

To  carry  out  an  attack  like  that  was  a  desperate 
undertaking,  because  the  Germans  were  six  hundred 
yards  away,  and  the  ground  was  all  to  their  advantage. 
It  rose  towards  them,  and  they  were  on  the  skyline, 
so  that  it  became  doubly  difficult  to  reach  them. 

Well,  the  order  was  given  to  advance,  and  we  got 
out  of  our  trenches  and  covered  most  of  the  distance 
in  good  order.  Bit  by  bit  we  made  our  way  over 
the  rising  ground  towards  that  skyline  which  was  a 
blaze  of  fire,  and  from  which  there  came  shells  and 
bullets  constantly. 


150     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

There  could  be  no  such  thing,  of  course,  as  a 
dash,  however  swift,  towards  the  skyline;  we  had 
to  creep  and  crawl  and  make  our  way  so  as  to  give 
them  as  little  to  hit  as  possible ;  but  it  was  terrible — 
too  terrible. 

We  fell  down  under  that  deadly  blast,  and  though 
I  am  not  a  particularly  religious  man,  I'll  own  that 
I  offered  up  a  prayer,  and  the  man  on  my  left  said 
something  of  the  same  sort  too.  Poor  chap  !  He 
had  scarcely  got  the  words  out  of  his  mouth,  when 
over  he  went,  with  a  bullet  in  his  neck,  and  there 
he  lay,  while  those  of  us  who  were  fit  and  well  kept 
up  and  crept  up. 

At  last  we  were  near  enough  to  the  skyline  to 
give  the  Germans  rapid  fire,  and  we  rattled  away 
as  fast  as  we  could  load  and  shoot,  till  the  rifles 
were  hot  with  firing.  After  that  rapid  fire  we  crept 
up  again,  and  it  was  then  that  I  saw  Major  Robb 
lying  down,  facing  us,  and  smoking  a  pipe — at  least 
he  had  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  just  as  cool  as  usual. 
He  sang  out  to  my  platoon  officer,  "  How  are  you 
feeling,  Twist  ?  " 

Lieutenant  Twist  answered,  "  Oh,  I'm  about  done 
for."  I  looked  at  him  and  saw  that  he  was  wounded 
in  the  chest  and  arm.  We  had  to  go  on,  and  we 
could  not  take  him  back  just  then. 

The  lieutenant  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  when 
I  saw  Major  Robb  himself  roll  over  on  his  side.  A 
poor  lad  named  Armstrong,  with  four  more  of  our 
men,  crept  up  to  attend  to  the  major,  but  a  piece 
of  shrapnel  struck  the  lad  on  the  head  and  killed 
him — and  other  men  were  falling  all  around  me. 

There  was  no  help  for  it  now — we  had  to  get 
back  to  our  trenches,  if  we  could;  that  was  our 


A  DAISY-CHAIN   OF  BANDOLIERS     151 

only  chance,  as  the  Germans  were  hopelessly  greater 
in  number  than  we  were.  So  we  made  our  way 
back  as  best  we  could,  and  we  took  with  us  as  many 
of  the  wounded  as  we  could  get  hold  of. 

Time  after  time  our  men  went  back  for  the 
wounded;  but,  in  spite  of  all  we  could  do,  some  of 
the  wounded  had  to  be  left  where  they  had  fallen. 

We  got  back,  the  survivors  of  us,  to  the  trenches, 
and  we  had  hardly  done  so  when  we  heard  a  shout. 
We  looked  up  from  the  trenches,  and  saw  Major 
Robb  on  the  skyline,  crawling  a  little  way. 

Instantly  a  whole  lot  of  us  volunteered  to  go  and 
fetch  the  major  in;  but  three  were  picked  out — 
Lance-Corporal  Rutherford,  Private  Warwick,  and 
Private  Nevison. 

Out  from  the  trenches  the  three  men  went;  up 
the  rising  ground  they  crawled  and  crept;  then, 
at  the  very  skyline,  Rutherford  and  Nevison  were 
shot  dead,  and  Warwick  was  left  alone.  But  he 
was  not  left  for  long.  Private  Howson  went  to  help 
him,  and  he  actually  got  to  the  ridge  and  joined 
him,  and  the  two  managed  to  raise  the  major  up; 
but  as  soon  as  that  had  been  done  the  officer  was 
shot  in  a  vital  part,  and  Warwick  also  was  hit. 

More  help  went  out,  and  the  major  and  Warwick 
were  brought  in;  but  I  grieve  to  say  that  the  poor 
major,  who  was  loved  by  all  of  us,  died  soon  after 
he  reached  the  trenches. 

That  furious  fight  had  cost  the  Durhams  very 
dearly.  When  the  roll  was  called  we  found  that  we 
had  lost  nearly  600  men,  and  that  in  my  own  com- 
pany only  one  officer  was  left.  This  was  Lieutenant 
Bradford,  one  of  the  bravest  men  I  ever  saw.  At 
one  time,  when  we  had  lost  a  young  officer  and  a 


152     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE  WAR 

man  with  a  machine-gun,  Lieutenant  Bradford 
worked  the  gun  himself.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
he  was  killed  in  another  battle  later  on. 

Now  I  am  going  to  leave  the  Valley  of  the  Aisne 
and  get  round  to  Flanders,  where  we  found  our- 
selves near  Ypres,  faced  by  a  big  force  of  Germans. 

Again  we  were  with  our  friends  the  West  York- 
shires— they  were  on  our  right,  and  on  our  left  we 
had  the  East  Yorkshires,  so  that  there  were  three 
North-country  regiments  together.  Near  Ypres  we 
soon  had  to  carry  out  a  smart  bit  of  work  which, 
in  a  way,  proved  very  pathetic.  The  Durhams  were 
ordered  to  take  a  small  village,  and  we  went  for  it. 
We  reached  a  farmhouse,  and  there  we  found  about 
a  score  of  women  and  children.  Some  of  our  men 
were  sent  into  the  house,  but  they  could  not  make 
the  women  and  children  understand  English.  The 
poor  souls  were  terrified;  they  had  had  to  do  with 
Germans,  and  as  they  were  not  familiar  with  our 
uniforms  they  thought  we  were  Germans  too — another 
lot  of  the  breed  from  which  they  had  suffered  so  much. 

We  fetched  Captain  Northey  to  explain  things  to 
the  women,  and  as  he  entered  the  house  a  shell 
burst  near  him  and  took  off  part  of  one  of  his  trouser- 
legs,  but  without  hurting  him.  The  captain  took 
no  notice  of  this  little  drawback,  and  into  the  house 
he  went,  and  made  the  women  understand  that  we 
were  English  troops;  and  I  can  assure  you  that 
when  they  realised  that  they  simply  went  wild  with 
joy,  and  hugged  and  kissed  us. 

We  had  gone  out  to  learn,  if  we  could,  something 
about  the  enemy's  strength,  and  we  got  to  know 
that  there  were  about  30,000  Germans  in  front  of 
our  brigade,  and  that  they  were  entrenched. 


A  DAISY-CHAIN   OF  BANDOLIERS     153 

The  Sherwood  Foresters,  who  were  in  reserve  to 
us,  were  ordered  to  relieve  us,  and  it  was  wonderful 
to  see  they  way  in  which  they  came  into  the  village 
we  had  taken,  smoking  cigarettes  as  if  they  were 
doing  a  sort  of  route-march,  although  they  came 
right  up  against  a  hail  of  bullets,  with  the  usual 
shells.  In  face  of  such  tremendous  odds  they  had 
to  retire;  but,  like  good  soldiers,  they  prepared 
another  lot  of  trenches  near  the  village,  and  later 
on  we  went  into  them. 

In  such  fighting  as  this  war  brings  about  there 
are  many,  many  sad  incidents,  and  one  of  the  saddest 
I  know  of  occurred  at  this  particular  village.  There 
was  a  fine  young  soldier  named  Matthews,  who  came 
from  West  Hartlepool,  I  think  it  was.  He  was 
struck  by  shrapnel,  and  we  saw  that  he  was  badly 
hurt.  We  did  what  we  could  for  him,  but  it  was 
clear  that  he  was  mortally  wounded,  and  that  he 
knew  it.  His  last  thought  was  for  home  and  wife, 
and  he  said  he  would  like  his  cap-badge  to  be  sent 
to  her,  to  be  made  into  a  brooch.  I  believe  that  a 
comrade,  who  was  also  a  neighbour  of  his,  undertook 
to  do  this  for  him. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  see  the  little  Gurkhas 
rout  the  enemy,  who  had  attacked  them,  and  to 
give  the  Germans  a  most  unpleasant  shock. 

The  Germans  had  been  shelling  the  East  York- 
shires, who  were  now  on  the  right  of  the  Durhams. 
The  enemy  had  the  range  almost  to  an  inch,  and 
the  effect  of  the  shelling  was  terrible.  Hour  after 
hour  this  shelling  was  kept  up  pitilessly,  and  the 
German  aeroplanes — "  birds,"  we  called  them — 
swooped  about  and  saw  the  havoc  that  was  being 
done.  This  sort  of  thing  went  on  till  after  dark, 


154     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

and  the  Durhams  wondered  if  any  of  the  East  York- 
shires were  left. 

There  was  a  surprise  in  store  for  us  at  dawn  next 
day  when  we  awoke,  for  the  East  Yorkshires'  trenches 
were  full  of  Gurkhas,  who  had  slipped  in  during  the 
night.  The  Germans  knew  nothing  of  this.  All  they 
knew  was  that  their  shells  had  been  pounding  on 
the  East  Yorkshires  for  hours,  and  doubtless  they 
had  satisfied  themselves  that  no  troops  on  earth 
could  stand  such  a  gruelling. 

The  Germans  came  on  pretty  confidently,  after 
dawn,  to  the  position  of  the  East  Yorkshires — came 
on  in  a  cloud.  That  was  after  we  had  repulsed  an 
attack  on  ourselves,  but  not  finally,  owing  to  the 
vast  numbers  of  the  Germans.  Perhaps  they  ex- 
pected to  find  the  trenches  filled  with  English  dead 
and  wounded,  and  certainly  to  us  it  seemed  as  if 
the  trenches  must  be  in  that  condition,  for  the 
Gurkhas  let  the  Germans  come  on  without  showing 
a  sign  of  life. 

The  Germans  gave  enough  warning  —  as  they 
always  do.  Bugles  sounded,  and  they  rushed  on, 
shouting  and  yelling;  but  still  there  was  no  sound 
from  the  trenches,  no  sign  of  life  was  seen.  Even 
we,  who  had  a  fine  view  of  the  trenches,  could  see 
nothing.  We  were  intensely  interested,  though  we 
had  plenty  of  hard  work  to  do  ourselves  in  firing  at 
the  enemy. 

When  the  Germans  got  to  within  about  forty 
yards  of  the  trenches  on  our  left,  the  little  brown 
fellows,  who  had  been  lying  so  low,  sprang  up  and 
simply  poured  over  the  tops  of  the  trenches.  That 
performance  was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
things  seen  in  the  war.  The  Gurkhas  never  even 


A   DAISY-CHAIN   OF   BANDOLIERS      155 

attempted  to  fire ;  they  just  seemed  to  roll  over  the 
ground,  gripping  their  long,  curved  knives. 

We  were  too  far  off  to  see  exactly  what  sort  of 
expression  came  on  the  Germans'  faces  when  the 
trenches,  which  were  supposed  to  be  choked  with 
dead  and  wounded  Britons,  vomited  these  Indian 
warriors;  but  we  saw  the  whole  shouting,  yelling 
line  of  Germans  pull  up  sharp. 

The  Germans  made  a  half-hearted  effort  to  come 
on,  then  they  wavered  badly,  and  well  they  might, 
for  by  this  time  the  little  Gurkhas  were  on  them 
with  fury,  and  the  blades  flashed  like  lightning  about 
the  mass  of  startled  Germans. 

Stunned  by  the  unexpectedness  and  swiftness 
of  the  Indian  onslaught,  terrified  by  the  deadly 
wielding  of  the  knives,  the  Germans  made  no  real 
effort  to  withstand  the  rush  from  the  trenches,  and 
they  broke  and  ran  like  rabbits,  throwing  down 
their  rifles  as  they  scuttled,  with  the  Gurkhas  leaping 
after  them  and  doing  fearful  execution. 

It  was  truly  great,  and  as  the  victorious  little 
warriors  came  back  we  gave  them  a  cheer  that  was 
a  real  hurrah.  We  were  as  pleased  as  the  Gurkhas 
were,  and  they  showed  their  joy  as  they  came  back 
wiping  their  knives.  They  seemed  all  grin  and 
knife  as  they  returned,  and  we  felt  all  the  better 
for  it,  too,  especially  as  we  gave  the  broken,  flying 
Germans  a  heavy  peppering. 

Only  the  Germans  who  were  behind  got  away,  or 
had  a  chance.  Those  in  front,  who  had  had  to  meet 
the  Indians'  swift,  fierce  spring,  were  done  for  as  soon 
as  the  curved  blades  were  whirling  amongst  them. 

I  had  had  a  pretty  good  innings  by  this  time,  and 
had  escaped  serious  injury,  but  I  was  very  soon  to 


156    SOLDIERS'   STORIES  OF  THE   WAR 

be  bowled  out.  The  Durhams  were  supporting  the 
West  Yorkshires,  who  had  been  badly  cut  up.  We 
received  word  that  the  West  Yorkshires  had  run 
short  of  ammunition,  and  that  fresh  supplies  were 
urgently  wanted.  We  advanced  with  supplies,  and 
found  that  we  had  to  cover  about  fifty  yards  of 
open  ground.  The  Germans  had  got  the  exact 
range  of  this  open  ground,  so  that  it  was  impossible 
to  advance  over  it,  except  singly.  The  shell  and 
rifle  fire  was  particularly  heavy,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  nothing  could  live  on  that  exposed  stretch. 

One  by  one  we  made  a  dash  across  that  awful 
space  towards  the  trenches  where  the  Yorkshiremen 
were  hungering  for  fresh  ammunition,  and  each  of 
us  carried  a  full  bandolier  for  the  Tykes.  A  good 
many  of  our  men  fell,  but  a  lot  got  through  and 
took  part  in  a  very  strange  bit  of  work. 

I  got  through  myself,  after  being  blown  down  by 
the  force  of  a  shell  explosion  near  me — thank  Heaven 
it  was  the  force  and  not  the  shell  itself  that  knocked 
me  over  for  the  moment !  It  was  terrible  going,  for  we 
soon  found,  after  we  began  to  make  the  journey,  that 
we  could  not  quite  reach  the  Yorkshires'  trenches. 

There  were  some  haystacks  on  the  open  ground, 
and  we  dodged  behind  them  and  dashed  from  one 
to  the  other,  every  dash  meaning  a  shower  of  bullets 
from  the  Germans. 

There  was  still  the  last  fifty  yards  I  have  men- 
tioned to  be  covered;  but  now  it  meant  almost 
sure  destruction  to  be  seen,  so  we  threw  the  bando- 
liers to  the  end  man  in  the  trenches,  the  man  nearest 
to  us ;  but  a  full  bandolier  is  a  heavy  thing,  and  there 
was  not  much  chance  of  taking  aim.  We  were  almost 
at  our  wits'  end,  but  we  tried  another  way.  We  made 


A  DAISY-CHAIN   OF  BANDOLIERS     157 

a  sort  of  daisy-chain  of  several  bandoliers,  and  paid 
this  out  as  best  we  could  towards  the  trenches. 

The  nearest  man  in  the  trench — a  plucky  chap  he 
was — slipped  out  and  made  a  dart  for  the  end  of  the 
chain.  He  just  made  a  mad  grab  and  got  it.  Then 
he  dashed  back  to  his  trench,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
business  was  all  over,  and  that  the  daisy-chain  would 
be  safely  hauled  in ;  but  to  the  grief  of  all  of  us  the 
chain  broke  when  a  few  yards  of  it  had  been  pulled  in. 

This  was  a  dreadful  disappointment,  but  still 
something  had  been  done,  some  rounds  of  ammuni- 
tion, at  any  rate,  had  been  got  into  the  trenches, 
and  we  were  determined  that  the  Tykes  should 
have  some  more.  We  had  to  wait  a  bit,  for  as 
soon  as  the  Yorkshireman  had  shot  back  to  his 
trench,  the  ground  that  he  had  scuttled  over  was 
absolutely  churned  up  by  shells,  and  if  he  had  been 
caught  on  it  he  would  have  been  blown  to  rags. 
We  lost  no  time  in  making  other  efforts,  and  at  last 
the  ammunition  was  safely  delivered  to  the  West 
Yorkshires  in  the  trenches,  and  they  did  some  rattling 
good  business  with  it. 

I  have  mentioned  "  Jack  Johnsons,"  and  I  want 
to  speak  of  them  again  by  way  of  finish.  It  was  at 
Ypres  that  I  was  bowled  out.  These  "  J.J.'s " 
were  falling  heavily,  but  many  of  them  were  what 
you  might  call  dumb — they  didn't  speak.  As  I 
have  said,  I  counted  eighteen  as  they  came,  and  out 
of  the  whole  of  that  number  only  one  exploded. 
But  it  was  enough.  I  have  already  told  you  what 
happened  to  two  of  my  comrades,  and  as  for  myself 
it  settled  me  for  the  time  being  by  badly  bruising 
my  spine  and  back. 

And  that's  the  reason  why  I  was  invalided  home. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

DESPATCH- RIDING 

[Particularly  hard  and  responsible  work  has  been  done  for 
the  British  Army  by  motor  cycle  despatch-riders.  Many 
members  of  this  fine  branch  of  our  fighting  men  abandoned 
very  promising  careers  in  civil  life  to  go  to  the  seat  of  war, 
Amongst  them  is  Corporal  Hedley  G.  Browne,  Captain  of  the 
Norfolk  Motor  Cycle  Club,  who  when  war  broke  out  volunteered 
for  active  service  and  became  a  motor  cycle  despatch-rider, 
attached  to  a  signal  company  of  the  Royal  Engineers.  It  is 
his  story  which  is  here  retold.  Of  the  work  of  the  motor  cycle 
despatch-riders  Sir  John  French  has  spoken  in  terms  of  high 
praise,  and  when  the  King  visited  the  front  recently  a  number 
of  the  riders  were  specially  brought  to  his  Majesty's  notice.] 

I  WAS  in  Ypres,  billeted  in  a  brewery,  when  that 
beautiful  old  city  was  still  intact ;  I  was  there  when 
the  first  German  shell  came  and  began  the  ruthless 
bombardment  which  has  laid  the  city  in  ruins  and 
added  one  more  to  the  list  of  heavy  debts  which  the 
Germans  will  have  to  pay  when  the  war  is  over.  The 
sooner  that  time  comes  the  better,  especially  for  those 
who  have  been  at  the  front  since  the  beginning,  and 
have  had  to  endure  things  which  people  at  home  can- 
not possibly  realise.  Five  days  ago  I  left  the  front 
for  a  flying  visit  home,  and  now  I  am  on  my  way  back. 
It  has  seemed  a  very  short  spell,  and  a  big  slice  of  the 
time  has  been  eaten  up  in  travelling.  A  nice  batch 
of  us  came  over  together,  and  here  we  are  assembling 
again,  though  it's  a  good  hour  before  the  boat-train 
starts. 

158 


DESPATCH-RIDING  159 

We  go  to  Boulogne,  and  then  we  shall  get  into  motor 
lorries  and  be  trundled  off  back  to  the  fighting  line. 
This  is  the  kit  we  work  and  live  in — even  now  my 
revolver  is  loaded  in  every  chamber.  No,  so  far,  I 
haven't  used  it  on  a  German ;  but  it's  shot  a  pig  or 
two  when  we've  wanted  pork,  and  really  there  isn't 
much  difference  between  the  two.  It  is  hard  to 
believe  that  human  beings  committed  some  of  the 
acts  of  which  I  saw  so  many  during  those  four  months 
at  the  front.  The  astounding  thing  is  that  the  Ger- 
mans don't  realise  that  they  have  done  anything 
wrong,  and  quite  lately  I  was  talking  with  some 
German  prisoners  who  spoke  English,  who  not  only 
did  not  see  this,  but  were  also  quite  sure  that  the  war 
will  end  in  favour  of  Germany.  By  this  time,  how- 
ever, they  are  changing  their  tune. 

When  I  got  to  the  front  I  was  attached  to  a  signal 
company,  which  consists  of  establishing  communica- 
tion between  headquarters  and  three  brigades,  and 
that  meant  when  we  were  on  the  march  riding  through 
about  seven  miles  of  troops,  guns,  waggons  and  hosts 
of  other  things.  When  in  action  we  had  to  go  quite  up 
to  the  firing  line,  and  very  soon  I  hardly  knew  myself, 
as  I  got  quite  used  to  the  bursting  of  shells  and  to 
the  shocking  condition  of  the  killed  and  wounded. 
It  was  astonishing  to  see  how  soon  men,  who  had  been 
used  to  every  comfort  at  home  and  who  knew  nothing 
of  war  in  any  shape  or  form,  got  accustomed  to  the 
hardships  of  campaigning  and  developed  a  callousness 
which  is  altogether  foreign  to  their  real  nature. 

One  of  the  most  amazing  things  about  the  war  is 
the  way  in  which  it  changes  a  man  and  makes  him 
callous.  I  know  that  before  I  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  Army  I  was  so  sensitive  in  some  ways  that  the 


160    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

mere  thought  of  blood  was  almost  enough  to  make 
me  ill,  yet  now,  after  being  for  more  than  four  months 
in  the  war,  and  having  seen  the  havoc  of  the  most 
terrific  battles  the  world  has  ever  known,  I  tear  along 
the  lonely  roads  and  remain  almost  unmoved  by  the 
most  dreadful  sights.  The  dead  pass  unnoticed,  and 
as  for  the  wounded,  you  can  do  nothing,  as  a  rule. 
You  have  your  orders,  and  they  must  be  obeyed 
without  loss  of  time,  because  a  motor  despatch-rider 
is  always  on  the  rush. 

I  well  remember  the  very  first  German  I  saw  lying 
dead.  He  was  an  Uhlan,  and  was  on  the  roadside. 
I  was  greatly  distressed  at  the  sight  of  him,  there  was 
something  so  sad  about  it  all,  but  now  there  is  no  such 
sensation  at  the  sight  of  even  great  numbers  of  the 
dead.  A  strange  thing  happened  in  connection  with 
the  Uhlan.  I  took  his  cap  as  a  memento,  and  brought 
it  home,  with  several  other  German  caps  and  helmets, 
chunks  of  shell,  clips  of  cartridges,  and  relics  of  altar- 
cloths  ;  and  now,  for  some  cause  which  I  can't  quite 
fathom,  the  Uhlan's  cap  has  turned  a  queer  sort  of 
yellow. 

That  strange  callousness  comes  over  one  at  the  most 
unexpected  times,  and  often  enough  a  motor  despatch- 
rider  has  to  dash  through  a  crowd  of  refugees  and 
scatter  them,  though  the  very  sight  of  the  poor  souls 
is  heart-breaking.  When  Ypres  was  bombarded,  the 
men,  women  and  children  thronged  the  roads,  and  all 
that  was  left  to  them  in  the  world  they  carried  in 
bundles  on  their  backs ;  yet  they  had  to  be  scattered 
like  flocks  of  sheep  when  the  motor  despatch-riders 
rushed  along.  There  was,  however,  one  pleasing 
feature  in  the  matter,  and  that  was  that  these  poor 
people  knew  that  we  were  tearing  along  in  their 


DESPATCH-RIDING  161 

interests  as  well  as  our  own,  and  that  we  did  not  mean 
to  hurt  anybody — which  was  different,  indeed,  from 
the  spirit  of  the  enemy,  whose  policy  was  to  spread 
terror  and  havoc  wherever  he  could,  and  to  destroy 
mercilessly.  When  I  first  went  into  Ypres  it  was  a 
beautiful  old  city,  very  much  like  Norwich,  but  I  saw 
the  German  guns  smash  the  place  and  the  shells  set 
fire  to  glorious  old  structures  like  the  Cathedral  and 
the  Cloth  Hall.  The  two  pieces  of  altar-cloth  which 
I  brought  home  were  taken  from  the  Cathedral  while 
it  was  burning. 

Though  you  soon  get  used  to  war,  still  there  are 
always  things  coming  along  which  are  either  par- 
ticularly interesting  or  very  thrilling.  Perhaps  the 
most  exciting  incident  I  can  call  to  mind  is  the  bring- 
ing down  of  a  German  aeroplane  by  a  British  brigade. 
That  was  on  October  27th,  when  I  was  with  the  brigade. 
It  was  afternoon,  and  the  aeroplane  was  flying  fairly 
low,  so  that  it  was  a  good  target  for  the  rain  of  bullets 
which  was  directed  on  it.  Even  when  flying  low,  an 
aeroplane  is  not  easy  to  hit,  because  of  its  quick, 
dodging  movements,  but  this  machine  was  fairly  got  by 
the  brigade.  Suddenly  there  was  an  explosion  in  the 
aeroplane,  flames  shot  out  and  the  machine  made  a 
sickening,  terrible  somersault.  I  took  it  that  a  bullet 
or  two  had  struck  the  petrol  tank  and  blown  the 
machine  up — anyway,  the  airman  was  shot  out  and 
crashed  to  earth  with  fearful  speed.  You  wanted  to 
look  away,  but  an  awful  fascination  made  you  keep 
your  eyes  on  what  was  happening.  At  first  the  man 
looked  like  a  piece  of  paper  coming  down,  then,  almost 
before  you  could  realise  the  tragedy  that  was  taking 
place,  the  piece  of  paper  took  the  form  of  a  fellow- 
creature —  then  the  end  came.  The  man  himself 
M 


162     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

smashed  to  earth  about  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
spot  where  I  was  watching,  but  the  machine  dropped 
some  distance  off.  That  was  really  one  of  the  sights 
that  no  amount  of  war  will  accustom  you  to,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  it  as  long  as  I  live. 

At  first  the  weather  was  very  hot,  which  made  the 
work  for  the  troops  very  hard.  The  machine  I  had 
soon  struck  work,  and  was  left  to  be  handed  over  to 
the  Kaiser  as  a  souvenir ;  and  several  other  machines 
gave  up  the  ghost  in  like  manner.  When  a  machine 
went  wrong,  it  was  left  and  a  new  one  took  its  place— 
the  list  of  casualties  for  motors  of  every  sort  is  an 
amazingly  heavy  one ;  but  casualties  were  inevitable, 
because  in  many  places  the  roads  that  we  had  to  take 
were  perfect  nightmares. 

It  was  very  hard  going  till  we  got  used  to  it.  Dur- 
ing the  first  month  at  the  front  I  had  my  boots  off 
about  three  times — I  am  now  wearing  my  fourth  pair, 
which  is  an  average  of  one  a  month — and  we  reckoned 
that  we  were  lucky  if  we  slept  in  a  barn,  with  straw ; 
if  we  couldn't  manage  that  we  turned  in  anywhere, 
in  our  greatcoats.  When  I  say  sleep,  I  mean  lying 
down  for  an  hour  or  two,  as  sometimes  we  did  not 
billet  till  dark.  Then  we  had  some  grub,  anything  we 
could  get,  and  after  that  a  message.  Next  day  we 
were  off,  five  times  out  of  six,  at  3.30  to  four  o'clock, 
and  got  long,  hard  days  in. 

Amongst  the  messages  we  had  to  carry  there  were 
none  more  urgent  than  those  which  were  sent  for  re- 
inforcements, the  men  upon  whose  coming  the  issue 
of  a  battle  depended.  It  was  tear  and  scurry  all  along, 
but  somehow  the  message  would  get  delivered  all  right 
and  the  reinforcements  would  hurry  up  and  save  the 
situation.  Often  enough  a  message  would  be  de- 


DESPATCH-RIDING  163 

livered  at  midnight  to  a  tired  officer  who  was  living 
in  a  dug-out,  and  I  scarcely  ever  reached  one  of  these 
warrens  without  being  invited  to  take  something  of 
whatever  was  going — it  might  be  a  drink  of  hot  coffee, 
with  a  biscuit,  or  a  tot  of  rum,  which  was  truly 
grateful  after  a  bitter  ride.  That  is  the  only  thing  in 
the  way  of  alcoholic  drink  at  the  front,  and  very  little 
of  it.  This  is,  for  the  British,  a  teetotal  war ;  but  for 
the  Germans  it  has  been  the  very  reverse,  and  time 
after  time  we  came  across  evidence  of  their  drunken 
debauches. 

The  shell  fire  was  so  incessant  that  it  was  soon  taken 
as  part  of  the  day's  work.  At  first  it  was  terrible, 
though  one  got  used  to  it.  My  first  experience  of 
rifle  fire  did  not  come  until  I  had  been  at  the  front 
for  some  weeks,  and  then  I  was  surprised  to  find  what 
a  comparatively  small  thing  it  is  compared  with 
shells — it  is  not  nearly  so  bad. 

It  was  getting  dark,  and  it  was  my  duty  to  go  down 
a  lane  where  snipers  were  hidden  in  the  trees.  This 
was  just  the  kind  of  lane  you  know  in  England, 
and  you  can  easily  picture  what  it  meant.  Imagine 
leaving  your  machine,  as  I  did,  in  a  tree-lined  lane 
at  home,  and  going  down  it,  knowing  that  there  were 
fellows  up  the  trees  who  were  on  the  watch  to  pot  you, 
and  you  will  realise  what  it  meant ;  but  you  will  have 
to  picture  also  the  sides  of  the  lane  being  littered,  as 
this  was,  with  dead  and  wounded  men.  Well,  I  had 
to  go  down  that  lane,  and  I  went — sometimes  walking, 
sometimes  running,  with  the  bullets  whizzing  round 
and  the  shells  bursting.  But  by  good  luck  I  escaped 
the  bullets,  though  a  piece  of  shell  nearly  nailed  me — 
or  would  have  got  me  if  I  had  been  with  my  machine. 
The  fragment  struck  the  cycle  and  I  picked  it  up 


164     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

and  brought  it  home  with  the  other  things  as  a 
souvenir. 

That  escape  was  practically  nothing.  It  was  a 
detail,  and  came  in  the  day's  work;  but  I  had  a 
much  more  narrow  shave  a  few  days  later.  It  was  a 
Saturday  and  I  had  had  a  pretty  hard  time — amongst 
other  things  I  had  done  a  thirty-mile  ride  after  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning — the  sort  of  ride  that  takes  it 
out  of  you. 

There  was  one  of  our  orderlies  with  a  horse  near  me 
and  I  was  standing  talking  to  him.  We  heard  a 
shrapnel  shell  coming,  and  ducked  our  heads  in- 
stinctively to  dodge  it — but  the  shell  got  at  us.  The 
horse  was  killed  and  the  orderly  was  so  badly  hit  that 
he  died  in  less  than  an  hour.  He  was  buried  in  the 
afternoon,  and  very  solemn  the  funeral  was,  with 
the  guns  booming  all  around.  I  was  deeply  shocked 
at  the  time,  but  war  is  war,  and  in  a  very  short  time 
the  incident  had  passed  out  of  my  mind.  Our  fellows 
told  me  that  I  was  one  of  the  lucky  ones  that  day. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  one  of  the  most  awful 
periods  of  the  war,  especially  for  the  despatch-riders, 
for  we  were  at  it  night  and  day.  The  roads  were  hope- 
lessly bad,  and  as  we  were  not  allowed  to  carry  any 
lamps  at  night  the  danger  of  rapid  travel  was  greatly 
increased.  We  were,  however,  relieved  to  some  ex- 
tent by  mounted  men.  The  fighting  was  furious  and 
incessant,  and  we  were  in  the  thick  of  a  good  deal  of 
it.  After  a  very  hard  spell  I  was  quartered  all  day 
in  a  little  stable,  and  it  proved  to  be  about  the  most 
dangerous  place  I  had  come  across.  On  October  29th 
the  Germans  went  for  the  stable  with  high  explosives 
and  the  everlasting  "  scuttles."  For  some  time  these 
big  shells  came  and  burst  in  the  locality,  and  two 


DESPATCH-RIDING  165 

houses  within  a  score  of  yards  of  us  were  blown  to 
pieces  and  enormous  holes  were  driven  in  the 
ground. 

From  the  stable  we  went  to  a  house,  and  then  we 
fairly  got  it.  Four  huge  shells  came,  one  after  the 
other,  and  one  came  and  ripped  the  roof  just  like 
paper.  We  were  amazingly  lucky,  however,  for  the 
worst  thing  that  happened  was  that  a  fellow  was 
wounded  in  the  leg.  I  was  thankful  when  the  order 
came  to  pack  up  and  stand  by,  for  there  were  in  that 
little  place  about  twenty  of  us  from  different  regiments, 
and  a  single  explosion  would  have  put  us  all  well 
beyond  the  power  of  carrying  either  despatches  or 
anything  else.  For  a  while  we  could  not  understand 
why  the  enemy  should  so  greatly  favour  us,  but  we 
soon  learned  that  they  were  going  for  some  French 
guns  near  us.  So  the  firing  went  on,  and  when  we 
went  to  sleep,  as  we  did  in  spite  of  all,  bullets  ripped 
through  the  roof,  coming  in  at  one  side  of  the  building 
and  going  out  at  the  other,  and  four  more  big  shells 
paid  us  a  most  unwelcome  visit. 

I  was  thankful  when  we  moved  out  of  those  un- 
pleasant quarters  and  took  up  our  abode  in  a  large 
farmhouse  about  three  hundred  yards  away.  This 
was  one  of  the  very  few  buildings  that  had  escaped 
the  ravages  of  the  German  artillery  fire.  We  made 
the  move  on  the  30th,  when  the  cannonade  was  very 
heavy,  yet  the  only  casualties  were  a  pig  and  two 
horses.  We  were  now  much  better  protected  from 
the  Germans'  fire,  though  the  very  house  shook  with 
the  artillery  duel  and  the  noise  grew  deafening  and 
almost  maddening.  I  wrote  home  pretty  often,  and 
I  remember  that  at  this  time  I  got  behind  a  hedge  to 
write  a  letter,  and  as  I  wrote  bullets  whizzed  over  my 


166     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

head,  fired  by  German  snipers  who  were  up  some  trees 
not  very  far  away.  They  were  going  for  our  chaps 
in  the  trenches  a  mile  away. 

Mons  had  been  bad,  and  there  had  been  many  har- 
rowing sights  on  the  retreat,  but  at  the  end  of  October 
and  the  beginning  of  November  the  climax  of  horror 
was  reached.  The  Germans,  mad  to  hack  their  way 
through  to  the  coast,  and  perhaps  realising  that  they 
would  never  do  it,  stuck  at  nothing.  They  were 
frantic,  and  I  saw  sights  that  would  sicken  any  human 
being.  No  consideration  weighed  with  them,  they 
simply  did  their  best  to  annihilate  us — but  they  are 
trying  still  to  do  that  and  not  succeeding. 

We  had  left  the  farmhouse  and  gone  into  a  large 
chateau,  which  served  as  headquarters,  and  here, 
on  November  2nd,  we  had  a  ghastly  experience.  It  is 
likely  that  the  Germans  knew  the  particular  purpose 
to  which  the  chateau  had  been  devoted ;  at  any  rate 
they  shelled  it  mercilessly,  and  no  fewer  than  six  staff 
officers  were  killed,  while  a  considerable  number  were 
wounded.  Again  I  was  lucky,  and  came  out  of  the 
adventure  unscathed.  On  the  following  day,  how- 
ever, I  was  nearly  caught.  I  had  taken  a  message  to 
headquarters  and  was  putting  my  machine  on  a  stand. 
To  do  this  I  had  to  leave  a  house,  and  go  about  fifty 
yards  away,  to  the  stand.  I  had  scarcely  left  the 
building  when  two  shells  struck  it  fair  and  plump,  and 
killed  two  motor  cyclists  and  wounded  three  others. 
Like  a  flash  I  jumped  into  a  ditch,  and  as  I  did  so  I 
heard  the  bits  of  burst  shell  falling  all  around  me. 
When  I  got  out  of  the  ditch  and  went  back  along  the 
main  road  I  saw  a  huge  hole  which  a  shell  had  made. 
It  was  a  thrilling  enough  escape,  and  shook  me  at  the 
time,  because  I  knew  the  two  poor  fellows  who  were 


DESPATCH-RIDING  167 

killed.  That  was  the  kind  of  thing  we  went  through 
as  we  jogged  along  from  day  to  day. 

I  am  not,  of  course,  giving  a  story  of  the  war  so 
much  as  trying  to  show  what  it  means  to  be  a  motor 
cycle  despatch -rider  at  the  front.  He  is  here,  there 
and  everywhere — and  there  is  no  speed  limit.  He  is 
not  in  the  actual  firing  line,  yet  he  sees  a  great  deal  of 
what  is  going  on.  Sometimes  he  is  very  lucky,  as  I 
was  myself  one  day,  in  being  allowed  to  witness  a 
fight  that  was  taking  place.  I  had  taken  a  despatch 
to  an  officer,  and  perhaps  conveyed  some  cheering 
news.  Anyway,  I  had  the  chance  to  go  to  an  eminence 
from  which  I  could  view  the  battle,  and  I  went,  and  it 
was  wonderful  to  see  the  waging  of  the  contest  over 
a  vast  tract  of  country — for  in  a  war  like  this  the 
ordinary  fighter  sees  very  little  indeed  of  the  battle. 
At  this  special  point  I  had  the  rare  chance  of  witness- 
ing a  fight  as  I  suppose  it  is  seen  by  the  headquarters 
staff,  and  one  of  the  strangest  things  about  it  was  the 
little  there  was  to  be  seen.  There  were  puffs  of  smoke 
and  tongues  of  flame — and  the  everlasting  boom  of 
guns;  but  not  much  more.  Men  are  killed  at  long 
distances  and  out  of  sight  in  these  days. 

War  is  excessively  wearing,  and  it  was  a  blessed 
relief  when  a  day  came  which  was  free  from  shells  and 
bullets.  That,  indeed,  was  the  calm  after  the  storm. 
It  came  to  us  when  we  were  snug  in  a  farmyard  about 
a  mile  away  from  a  big  town,  with  our  motor-cars, 
cycles  and  horses  so  well  under  cover  that  the  German 
aeroplanes  did  not  find  us  out.  Thankful  indeed  were 
we  for  the  change,  because  the  whole  region  where  we 
were  had  been  pitilessly  bombarded,  and  there  was 
nothing  but  devastation  around  us.  Shells  had  done 
their  work,  and  there  was  a  special  kind  of  bomb 


168     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

which  fired  anything  it  touched  that  was  inflammable. 
A  great  many  petrol  discs,  about  the  size  of  a  shilling, 
were  discharged  by  the  Germans,  and  these  things, 
once  alight,  did  amazing  mischief.  Villages  were 
obliterated,  and  in  the  big  town  where  we  were 
billeted  the  engineers  were  forced  to  blow  up  the 
surrounding  houses  to  prevent  the  entire  place  from 
being  destroyed. 

The  glad  time  came  when  our  Division  was  relieved 
for  a  time.  We  got  a  bit  of  rest,  and  I  crossed  the 
Channel  and  came  home  for  a  short  spell.  One  of 
the  last  things  I  saw  before  I  left  the  front  was  the 
Prince  of  Wales  making  a  tour.  At  that  time  he  was 
about  fifteen  miles  from  the  firing  line. 

What  was  the  most  noticeable  thing  that  struck  me 
when  I  came  back  over  the  Channel  ?  Well,  that  is 
not  easy  to  say,  but  I  know  that  I  particularly  noticed 
the  darkness  of  the  London  streets. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   THREE    TORPEDOED    CRUISERS 

[Within  a  few  minutes,  on  the  morning  of  Tuesday,  September 
22nd,  1914,  three  large  British  cruisers,  sister  ships,  foundered  in 
the  North  Sea,  after  being  torpedoed  by  German  submarines, 
and  nearly  1,500  officers  and  men  perished.  The  ships  were 
the  Aboukir,  Cressy  and  Hogue.  Each  was  of  12,000  tons, 
with  a  speed  of  twenty-two  knots,  and  each  cost  £750,000. 
The  vessels  were  fine  warships,  but  almost  obsolete,  and  before 
the  war  it  had  been  decided  to  sell  them  out  of  the  Navy. 
The  Aboukir  was  torpedoed,  and  while  the  Hogue  and  Cressy 
had  closed,  and  were  standing  by  to  save  the  crew,  they  also 
were  torpedoed.  All  three  ships  speedily  sank.  The  boats 
were  filled,  and,  later,  destroyers  and  other  vessels  came  up 
and  rescued  many  of  the  survivors,  amongst  whom  was  C.  C. 
Nurse,  an  able  seaman  of  the  Hogue,  whose  story  is  here  retold. 
The  casualties  were  very  heavy;  but,  said  the  Admiralty,  the 
lives  lost  were  "  as  usefully,  as  necessarily,  and  as  gloriously 
devoted  to  the  requirements  of  his  Majesty's  service  as  if  the 
loss  had  been  incurred  in  a  general  action."] 

THE  three  cruisers,  sister  ships,  were  on  patrol  duty 
in  the  North  Sea  early  on  the  morning  of  September 
22nd.  They  were  alone,  protecting  our  own  merchant 
ships  and  on  the  look-out  for  vessels  that  were  mine- 
laying.  The  weather  was  nice,  with  a  rather  heavy 
swell  on  the  water.  There  had  been  plenty  of  bad 
weather,  and  this  was  the  first  good  day  we  had  had 
for  a  week. 

I  had  done  my  twelve  years  in  the  Navy  and  had 
been  called  up  from  the  Royal  Fleet  Reserve.  We  had 
settled  into  our  stride  and  had  been  in  at  the  tail-end 

169 


170     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

of  the  scrap  in  the  Heligoland  Bight,  where  the  Hogue 
got  hold  of  the  Arethu-sa  and  towed  her  away.  At 
that  tune  the  Arethusa  had  been  commissioned  only 
about  two  days.  We  knew  that  she  was  just  begin- 
ning her  life;  but  we  little  thought  that  the  Hogue 
was  ending  hers. 

It  was  my  watch  below,  and  I  was  asleep  in  my 
hammock  when  the  bugles  sounded  the  reveille,  and 
we  were  shaken  up  and  told  that  one  of  our  ships  was 
going  down.  We  had  turned  in  all  standing,  and  lost 
no  time  hi  rushing  on  deck.  Then  I  saw  that  the 
Aboukir,  which  was  about  six  hundred  yards  away, 
was  heeling  over,  and  that  we  were  steaming  up  to 
her  assistance.  At  first  we  thought  she  had  been 
mined;  but  we  quickly  learned  that  she  had  been 
torpedoed  by  German  submarines.  We  were  very 
soon  alongside  of  her,  and  were  doing  everything  we 
could  to  save  the  survivors.  It  was  very  clear  that 
she  was  sinking,  that  a  good  many  of  the  crew  had 
been  killed  by  the  explosion,  and  that  a  lot  of  men, 
who  were  far  below,  in  the  engine-room  and  stoke- 
holds, would  have  no  chance  of  escaping. 

We  instantly  started  getting  out  the  few  boats 
that  were  left  in  our  ship.  There  were  only  three, 
because  we  were  cleared  for  action,  and  as  it  was  war- 
tune  the  great  majority  of  them  had  been  taken  away. 
This  has  to  be  done  so  that  there  shall  be  as  little 
woodwork  as  possible  to  be  splintered  by  shells. 
With  extraordinary  speed  some  of  the  Aboukir's  men 
had  got  to  the  Hogue,  and  some,  who  were  badly  hurt, 
had  been  taken  to  the  sick-bay  and  were  being  attended 
to.  The  attack  had  come  swiftly,  and  it  was  for  us 
the  worst  of  all  attacks  to  guard  against ;  but  there 
was  nothing  like  panic  anywhere,  and  from  the  calm- 


THE   THREE   TORPEDOED   CRUISERS     171 

ness  of  things  you  might  have  thought  that  the  three 
ships  were  carrying  out  some  ordinary  evolution. 

I  was  standing  on  the  starboard  side  of  the  after- 
shelter-deck  of  the  Rogue,  and  could  see  a  great  deal 
of  what  was  going  on.  With  remarkable  smartness 
and  speed  our  two  lifeboats  were  got  away  to  the 
Aboukir,  our  men  pulling  splendidly  on  their  life- 
saving  errand.  Our  main  derrick,  too,  was  over  the 
side  and  had  got  the  launch  out.  The  launch  was  a 
big  rowing-boat,  which  would  hold  about  a  hundred 
men,  and  not  a  second  had  been  lost  in  getting  her 
afloat  under  the  direction  of  Lieutenant-Commander 
Give  Phillipps-Wolley.  He  worked  the  derrick  to 
get  the  launch  out,  though  he  was  not  in  the  best  of 
health,  and  only  a  little  while  previously  he  had  been 
ill  in  his  bunk.  He  was  near  me  on  the  after-bridge, 
which  was  above  the  shelter-deck,  and  I  saw  and 
heard  him  giving  orders  for  the  getting  out  of  the 
launch.  That  was  the  last  I  knew  about  him.  He 
was  one  of  the  lost. 

The  launch  was  afloat,  and  the  men  were  ready  to 
hurry  up  to  the  Aboukir ;  but  before  she  could  get 
away  the  very  deck  under  my  feet  was  blown  up. 
There  was  a  terrific  explosion,  and  a  huge  column  of 
wreckage  rose.  I  was  stunned  for  a  moment  by  the 
force  of  the  explosion.  I  thought  we  had  been  mined ; 
but  almost  instantly  there  was  a  second  explosion 
under  me,  and  I  knew  that  we  had  been  torpedoed. 
The  Hogue  had  been  badly  holed,  and  she  began  to 
heel  over  to  starboard  immediately. 

It  is  only  telling  the  plain  truth  to  say  that  there 
was  practically  no  confusion,  and  that  every  man  was 
cool  and  going  about  his  business  as  if  no  such  thing 
as  a  calamity  like  this  had  happened.  War  is  war, 


172     SOLDIERS*    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

and  we  were  ready  for  all  sorts  of  things — and  the 
discipline  of  the  British  Navy  always  stands  firm  at  a 
crisis. 

There  was  naturally  a  good  deal  of  noise,  shouting 
of  orders,  and  orderly  rushing  to  and  fro  as  men 
carried  them  out;  but  everything  was  done  with 
wonderful  coolness,  and  the  splendid  courage  of  the 
officers  was  reflected  in  the  men.  A  noble  example 
was  set,  and  it  was  magnificently  followed.  The  men 
waited  until  they  got  their  orders,  just  as  they  did  at 
any  other  time. 

The  captain  was  on  the  fore-bridge,  and  I  heard 
him  shouting;  but  as  I  was  so  far  aft  I  could  not 
clearly  make  out  what  he  said.  I  know,  however, 
that  he  was  ordering  every  man  to  look  after  himself. 
The  men  were  told  to  take  their  clothes  off,  and  to 
lay  hands  on  anything  that  would  float.  They 
promptly  obeyed,  and  at  the  word  of  command  a  lot 
of  them  jumped  overboard.  There  was  then  hope 
that  we  could  all  get  to  the  Cressy,  which  was  still 
uninjured,  standing  by  and  doing  all  she  could  to 
rescue  the  survivors  of  her  two  sister  ships.  Soon, 
however,  she  herself  was  torpedoed,  and  in  a  few 
moments  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  the  three  ships 
were  going  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

All  the  cruisers  shared  the  same  fate,  and  were 
doomed.  They  were  the  only  British  ships  at  hand, 
and  we  did  not  expect  the  enemy,  being  Germans,  to 
do  anything  for  us.  But  everything  that  skill  and 
resource  could  do  was  done  by  our  own  survivors 
without  a  moment's  loss  of  time.  In  the  sea  there 
was  an  amazing  collection  of  things  that  had  been 
thrown  overboard — tables,  chairs,  spars,  oars,  hand- 
spikes, targets  and  furniture  from  the  officers'  cabins, 


THE   THREE  TORPEDOED   CRUISERS     173 

such  as  chests  of  drawers.  And  everything  that 
could  float  was  badly  wanted,  because  the  sea  was 
simply  covered  with  men  who  were  struggling  for 
dear  life,  and  knew  that  the  fight  would  have  to  be 
a  long  and  terrible  one. 

It  takes  a  long  time  to  talk  of  what  happened,  but, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  whole  dreadful  business,  so 
far  as  the  loss  of  the  ships  was  concerned,  was  over  in 
a  few  minutes.  As  far  as  I  can  reckon,  the  Hogue 
herself  was  struck  three  times  within  a  minute  or  so. 
The  first  torpedo  came,  followed  almost  immediately 
by  a  second  in  the  same  place,  and  by  a  third  about 
a  minute  afterwards.  The  war-head  of  a  torpedo 
holds  a  very  big  charge  of  gun-cutton,  which,  when 
it  explodes  against  the  side  of  a  ship,  drives  an  enor- 
mous hole  through.  An  immense  gap  was  driven 
in  the  Hague's  side,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  doubt 
that  the  first  torpedo  struck  her  under  the  aft  9*2in. 
magazine.  That  fact  would  account  for  the  fearful 
nature  of  the  explosion. 

As  soon  as  the  Hogue  had  been  torpedoed,  she  began 
to  settle  by  the  stern;  then  she  was  quite  awash 
aft,  and  began  to  turn  turtle.  Our  ship  sank  stern 
first  before  she  heeled  over.  There  was  a  frightful 
turmoil  as  the  four  immense  funnels  broke  away 
from  their  wire  stays  and  went  over  the  side,  and  the 
sea  got  into  the  stokeholds  and  sent  up  dense  clouds 
of  steam. 

The  Germans  boast  about  the  work  having  been 
done  by  one  submarine,  but  that  is  nonsense.  No 
single  submarine  could  have  done  it,  because  she  could 
not  carry  enough  torpedoes.  I  am  sure  that  there 
were  at  least  half-a-dozen  submarines  in  the  attack ; 
certainly  when  I  was  in  the  water  I  saw  two  rise. 


174     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

They  came  up  right  amongst  the  men  who  were 
swimming  and  struggling,  and  it  was  a  curious  sensa- 
tion when  some  of  the  men  felt  the  torpedoes  going 
through  the  water  under  their  legs.  I  did  not  feel 
that,  but  I  did  feel  the  terrific  shock  of  the  explosion 
when  the  first  torpedo  struck  the  Cressy ;  it  came 
through  the  water  towards  us  with  very  great  force. 

We  had  a  fearful  time  in  the  cold  water.  The 
struggle  to  keep  afloat  and  alive,  the  coming  up  of 
the  submarines,  and  the  rushing  through  the  water 
of  the  torpedoes — all  that  we  had  to  put  up  with. 
Then  we  had  something  infinitely  worse,  for  the  Cressy 
spotted  the  submarines,  and  instantly  opened  a 
furious  fire  upon  them.  The  chief  gunner,  Mr.  Dough- 
erty, saw  one  of  them  as  soon  as  her  periscope  appeared, 
and  he  fired,  and,  I  believe,  hit  the  periscope;  then 
he  fired  again — and  again,  getting  three  shots  in  from 
a  four-pounder  within  a  minute,  and  when  he  had 
done  with  her,  the  submarine  had  made  her  last  dive 
— and  serve  her  right  !  The  Germans  played  a  dirty 
game  on  us,  and  only  a  little  while  before  we  had  done 
our  best  to  save  some  of  them  in  the  Heligoland  Bight, 
but  never  a  German  bore  a  hand  to  save  the  three 
cruisers'  men  from  the  water.  Of  course,  a  sailor 
expects  to  be  hit  anyhow  and  anywhere  in  a  straight 
piece  of  fighting,  but  this  torpedoing  of  rescue  ships 
was  rather  cold-blooded,  and  I  don't  think  British 
submarines  would  have  done  it. 

There  were  some  awful  sights — but  I  don't  want 
to  dwell  too  much  on  them.  Men  had  been  torn  and 
shattered  by  the  explosions  and  falling  things,  and 
there  was  many  a  broken  leg  and  broken  arm.  Great 
numbers  of  men  had  been  badly  hurt  and  scalded 
inside  the  ship.  In  the  engine-rooms,  the  stokeholds, 


THE  THREE  TORPEDOED   CRUISERS     175 

and  elsewhere,  brave  and  splendid  fellows  who  never 
left  their  posts  had  died  like  heroes.  They  never  had 
a  chance  when  the  ships  heeled  over,  for  they  were 
absolutely  imprisoned. 

When  once  I  had  reached  the  shelter-deck  I  never 
tried  to  go  below  again;  but  some  of  the  men  did, 
and  they  were  almost  instantly  driven  out  by  the 
force  of  the  huge  volumes  of  water  which  were  rushing 
into  the  side  through  the  gaping  holes. 

One  man  had  an  extraordinary  escape.  He  had 
rushed  below  to  get  a  hammock,  and  had  laid  hands 
on  it  when  the  ship  heeled  over.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
must  be  drowned  like  a  rat  in  a  trap,  and  would  have 
no  chance,  but  the  rush  of  water  carried  him  along 
until  he  reached  an  entry-port — one  of  the  steel  door- 
ways in  the  ship's  sides — and  then  he  was  hurled  out 
of  the  ship  and  into  the  sea,  where  he  had,  at  any 
rate,  a  sporting  chance,  like  the  rest  of  us,  of  being 
saved. 

I  saw  the  three  ships  turn  turtle,  and  a  dreadful 
sight  it  was.  The  Hogue  was  the  first  to  go — she 
was  not  afloat  for  more  than  seven  minutes  after  she 
was  struck ;  then  the  Aboukir  went,  but  much  more 
slowly — she  kept  afloat  for  rather  more  than  half -an - 
hour ;  and  the  last  to  go  was  the  Cressy.  The  Cressy 
heeled  over  very  slowly  and  was  quite  a  long  time 
before  she  had  completely  turned  turtle.  When  that 
happened  the  bottom  of  the  ship,  which  was  almost 
flat  for  most  of  its  length,  was  where  the  deck  had 
been.  And  on  this  big  steel  platform,  which  was 
nearly  awash,  the  Captain  was  standing.  I  saw  him 
quite  clearly — I  was  not  more  than  forty  yards  away 
— and  I  had  seen  men  walking,  running,  crawling  and 
climbing  down  the  side  of  the  ship  as  she  heeled  over. 


176     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

They  either  fell  or  hurled  themselves  into  the  sea  and 
swam  for  it ;  but  the  captain  stuck  to  his  post  to  the 
very  last  and  went  down  with  his  ship.  It  was  the 
old  British  Navy  way  of  doing  things,  though  probably 
he  could  have  saved  himself  if  he  had  taken  his  chance 
in  the  water. 

One  thing  which  proved  very  useful  in  the  water, 
and  was  the  means  of  saving  a  number  of  lives,  was  a 
target  which  had  been  cast  adrift  from  the  Cressy. 
Targets  vary  in  size,  and  this  was  one  of  the  smaller 
ones,  known  as  Pattern  Three,  about  twelve  feet 
square.  It  was  just  the  woodwork  without  the  can- 
vas, so  it  floated  well,  and  a  lot  of  the  survivors  had 
something  substantial  in  the  way  of  a  raft  to  cling  to. 
Many  of  them  held  on  gamely  till  the  end,  when 
rescue  came ;  but  other  poor  chaps  dropped  off  from 
sheer  exhaustion,  and  were  drowned. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  not  a  few  of  the  men 
had  had  an  experience  which  was  so  shattering  that, 
perhaps,  there  has  never  been  anything  like  it  in  naval 
warfare.  They  were  first  torpedoed  in  the  Aboukir, 
then  they  were  taken  to  the  Hogue  and  torpedoed  in 
her,  and  then  removed  to  the  Cressy  and  torpedoed 
for  the  third  time.  Finally  they  were  cast  into  the 
sea  to  take  their  chance,  and,  in  some  cases,  they  had 
to  float  or  swim  in  the  water  for  hours  until  they  were 
rescued.  No  wonder  it  became  a  question  of  endur- 
ance and  holding  on  more  than  a  matter  of  swimming. 

The  sea  was  covered  with  men  who  were  either 
struggling  for  life  or  holding  on  to  wreckage.  The 
boats  were  packed,  and  well  they  might  be,  because 
no  effort  had  been  spared  to  get  struggling  men  into 
them.  The  men  who  were  in  the  best  of  health  and 
good  swimmers  were  helping  those  who  could  not 


THE  THREE  TORPEDOED   CRUISERS    177 

swim,  and  in  this  way  many  a  man  was  saved  who 
would  have  been  lost. 

When  I  was  in  the  water  I  did  not  utter  a  word  to 
anybody — it  was  not  worth  it,  and  you  needed  all 
your  breath ;  but  I  never  abandoned  hope,  even  when 
I  saw  the  last  ship  go  down,  because  I  knew  that  we 
should  have  assistance. 

Wireless  calls  were  made,  and  appeals  for  help  were 
being  sent  out  all  the  time,  and  when  I  looked  around  at 
all,  it  was  in  the  hope  of  seeing  some  of  our  own  ships 
tearing  down  to  the  rescue.  My  mind  was  easy  on  the 
point — I  knew  that  the  call  must  have  been  made,  and  it 
was  merely  a  question  of  time  for  the  response  to  come. 

I  was  supported  by  a  plank  and  clung  to  it  with  all 
my  strength,  though  from  time  to  time  I  endured  agony 
from  cramp.  In  spite  of  the  torture  I  never  let  go. 
I  gripped  my  plank,  but  I  saw  men  near  me  forced  to 
let  go  their  hold  of  things  they  had  seized,  and  they 
were  drowned.  In  many  cases  cramp  overcame  them, 
and  quite  near  to  me  were  poor  fellows  who  were  so 
contracted  with  it  that  they  were  doubled  up  in  the 
water,  with  their  knees  under  their  chins.  I  could 
see  their  drawn  faces  and  knotted  hands — and  in 
several  cases  I  saw  that  the  grip  which  was  on  the 
floating  objects  was  the  grip  of  death.  I  floated  past 
these  poor  chaps,  and  it  was  pitiful  to  see  them. 
Thank  God  some  of  the  struggling  in  the  water  did 
not  last  long,  because  many  of  the  men  had  been 
badly  burnt  or  scalded,  or  hit  by  heavy  pieces  of 
wreckage,  and  these  soon  fell  away  exhausted,  and 
were  drowned.  Some,  too,  were  dazed  and  lost  their 
nerve  as  well  as  their  strength,  so  that  they  could  not 
keep  up  the  fight  for  life.  For  long  after  the  cruisers 
had  sunk,  carrying  hundreds  of  men  with  them,  the  sea 

N 


178     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

for  a  great  space  was  covered  with  floating  bodies — 
dead  sailors,  as  well  as  those  who  had  managed  to  live. 

Whenever  a  boat  came  up  I  tried  to  help  a  man  into 
it ;  but  it  was  not  possible  to  do  anything  except  with 
the  aid  of  the  boats.  The  two  cutters  acted  splendidly, 
picking  up  all  the  men  they  could.  Captain  Nichol- 
son, of  the  Hague,  was  in  charge  of  one  of  them,  and 
he  did  some  rousing  rescue  work. 

There  were  some  fine  deeds  of  courage  and  unselfish- 
ness that  sad  morning  in  the  North  Sea.  The  launch 
and  the  cutter  were  packed,  of  course,  and  seeing 
this,  and  knowing  that  there  were  men  in  the  water 
who  were  more  badly  wanting  a  place  in  the  boat 
than  he  was,  a  Royal  Fleet  Reserve  man,  named 
Farmstone,  sprang  into  the  sea  and  swam  for  it,  to 
make  room  for  a  man  who  was  exhausted. 

I  was  thankful  indeed  when  I  saw  smoke  on  the 
horizon — black  clouds  which  showed  that  some  ships 
were  steaming  up  as  hard  as  they  could  lick.  Very 
soon,  some  of  our  own  destroyers — blessed  and  wel- 
come sight — came  into  view,  and  as  they  did  so,  I 
believe,  they  potted  at  submarines  which  were  slinking 
away,  but  I  can't  say  with  what  result.  The  de- 
stroyers came  up.  The  Lucifer,  a  small  cruiser,  came 
up  too,  and  the  work  of  rescue  began  as  hard  as  it 
could  be  carried  out,  every  officer  and  man  working 
with  a  will.  There  were  two  or  three  other  ships 
about,  two  Lowestoft  trawlers — which  did  uncom- 
monly good  work — and  two  small  Dutch  steamers,  one 
called  the  Titan  and  the  other  the  Flora.  The  next 
thing  that  I  clearly  remember  was  that  I  had  been 
hauled  out  of  the  bitter-cold  water  and  lifted  on 
board  the  Flora,  and  that  she  was  soon  packed  with 
half -dead  men  like  myself. 


THE  THREE  TORPEDOED   CRUISERS    179 

The  Flora  was  a  very  small  Dutch  cargo  boat,  and 
with  so  many  men  on  board  she  was  crammed.  It 
is  impossible  to  say  how  some  of  the  men  got  on  board, 
and  they  could  not  explain  themselves,  they  were  so 
utterly  exhausted.  The  Dutch  could  understand  us, 
though  words  were  hardly  necessary,  and  they  shared 
everything  they  had — clothes,  food,  drink  and  accom- 
modation. They  wrapped  their  bedding  round  us 
and  gave  us  hot  coffee.  The  stokehold  was  crowded 
with  men  who  had  gone  down  into  it  to  get  dry  and 
warm.  Some  of  the  men  were  suffering  dreadfully 
from  burns,  wounds  and  exhaustion,  and  one  of  them 
died  on  board  the  Flora.  He  was  my  next  messmate, 
Green.  He  lived  for  only  about  an  hour.  I  saw  him 
in  one  of  the  seamen's  bunks,  and  he  was  then  in 
great  agony.  I  think  he  had  been  struck  very  badly  in 
the  explosion.  We  took  him  away  from  the  bunk, 
laid  him  on  the  fore-hatch  and  covered  him  with  a 
tarpaulin,  where  he  lay  till  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  when  we  landed  at  Ymuiden.  Poor  Green 
was  buried  there  with  full  honours,  the  British  chap- 
lain at  Amsterdam  conducting  the  service. 

One  very  strange  incident  of  the  disaster  was  the 
way  in  which  the  ensign  of  the  Hogue  was  saved.  I 
don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  one  of  the  stokers 
who  had  managed  to  escape  got  hold  of  the  ensign 
when  he  was  in  the  water,  and  hung  on  to  it  all  the 
time  he  was  in — two  or  three  hours.  He  had  the 
ensign  with  him  when  we  were  in  Holland,  and  had 
his  photograph  taken  with  it  in  the  background. 

Another  remarkable  fact  is  that  four  brothers,  who 
came  from  the  Yorkshire  coast,  I  think,  were  in  the 
Hogue,  and  all  of  them  were  saved  ! 

Talking  of  photographs,  I  was  one  of  a  group  which 


180     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

was  taken  at  Ymuiden,  when  we  were  rigged  out  in 
the  kit  of  Dutch  bluejackets.  There  I  am,  in  the 
back  row.  At  that  time  I  was  wearing  a  beard  and 
moustache,  as  there  was  neither  much  time  not  inclina- 
tion for  shaving. 

We  had  lost  everything  we  had,  and  were  almost 
naked,  so  we  were  very  glad  of  the  clothes  that  were 
given  to  us  by  the  Dutch.  These  people  were  kind- 
ness itself  to  us,  and  did  everything  they  could  to 
make  us  comfortable  and  happy.  I  was  taken  to  a 
small  cafe  and  went  to  bed. 

A  Dutch  soldier  was  in  charge  of  us,  but  he  had  no 
fear  of  us  doing  any  harm.  Next  evening  they  took  us 
by  train  to  a  place  in  the  north  of  Holland ;  then  we 
had  a  sixteen  miles'  tramp  along  the  level  roads  to  a 
concentration  camp  where  there  were  some  Belgian 
prisoners,  who  gave  us  a  cheer. 

We  marched  those  sixteen  miles  whistling  and  sing- 
ing. Had  we  not  been  snatched  from  death? 

We  had  to  rough  it,  of  course,  but  that  came  easy 
after  such  an  experience  as  ours.  There  was  only 
one  blanket  amongst  thirteen  men,  and  we  had  to 
sleep  on  straw,  and  eat  with  our  fingers.  We  had 
plenty  of  food,  though — rough,  but  very  nice,  and  we 
were  very  glad  of  it,  and  thankful  to  get  a  drink  of 
water. 

Next  morning,  when  we  left  the  straw  and  solitary 
blanket,  it  was  very  raw  and  cheerless,  and  there  was 
a  heavy  mist.  The  Belgian  prisoners  had  a  football, 
and  we  borrowed  it  and  played  a  game,  and  got  warm. 
We  were  covered  with  straw,  and  our  clothes  were 
filled  with  it  when  we  woke,  but  we  soon  shook  it 
clear  when  we  got  going  with  the  ball.  We  enjoyed 
a  basin  of  coffee  and  a  big  lump  of  brown  bread  which 


[To  face  p.  180. 


GOOD    SWIMMERS    WERE    HELPING    THOSE   WHO    COULD 
NOT   SWIM  "  (p.  176). 


THE  THREE  TORPEDOED   CRUISERS     181 

the  Dutch  cook  gave  us,  then  we  got  the  time  on  by 
turning  our  tents  out,  and  were  quite  in  clover  when 
the  British  Consul  supplied  us  with  knives,  forks, 
spoons,  towels,  overcoats  and  boots. 

We  spent  the  first  morning  washing  and  drying  our 
socks,  and  wondering  what  was  going  to  be  done  with 
us.  We  kept  on  wondering,  but  soon  knew  that  we 
were  not  going  to  be  detained  in  Holland,  but  were 
to  be  sent  home.  On  the  Friday  we  had  definite  news 
that  we  were  to  go  back  to  England,  and  on  the 
Saturday  morning  we  left,  and  did  the  sixteen  miles' 
tramp  again ;  but  it  was  easier  this  time,  because  we 
were  prepared  for  it.  We  stopped  at  a  farm,  and 
they  gave  us  milk  and  food,  cigars  and  cigarettes,  and 
before  entering  a  special  train  for  Flushing,  the  Dutch 
gave  us  milk  again,  and  cake,  bread  and  apples. 

From  Flushing  we  came  on  to  Sheerness,  and  then 
we  went  on  leave — and  here  I  am ;  but  I  go  back  in 
a  day  or  two.  I  don't  know  what  will  happen,  for 
owing  to  the  explosion  the  sight  of  my  left  eye  has 
practically  gone.  Besides  that,  I  seem  to  have  been 
completely  shattered  in  nerves,  though  I  reckoned 
that  I  was  one  of  those  men  who  have  no  nerves — I 
have  been  a  steeple-jack  since  I  left  the  Navy,  and 
just  before  I  was  called  up  I  was  cleaning  the  face  of 
Big  Ben. 

It  is  when  I  wake  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  as  I 
often  do,  that  the  whole  fearful  thing  comes  back 
with  such  awful  vividness,  and  I  see  again  the  dread- 
ful sights  that  it  is  better  to  forget. 

Yes,  the  Germans  got  three  good  hauls  in  the 
cruisers ;  but  I  don't  think  they'll  have  another  chance 
like  it. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    RUNAWAY    RAIDERS 

["  Practically  the  whole  fast  cruiser  force  of  the  German 
Navy,  including  some  great  ships  vital  to  their  fleet  and  utterly 
irreplaceable,  has  been  risked  for  the  passing  pleasure  of  killing 
as  many  English  people  as  possible,  irrespective  of  sex,  age 
or  condition,  in  the  limited  time  available.  Whatever  feats 
of  arms  the  German  Navy  may  hereafter  perform,  the  stigma 
of  the  baby-killers  of  Scarborough  will  brand  its  officers  and 
men  while  sailors  sail  the  seas."  So  wrote  the  First  Lord  of 
the  Admiralty  (Mr.  Winston  S.  Churchill)  on  December  20th, 
1914,  in  reference  to  the  German  raid  on  Scarborough,  Whitby, 
and  the  Hartlepools  on  December  16th.  In  that  cowardly 
bombardment  of  unprotected  places,  the  Huns  killed  more 
than  a  hundred  men,  women,  and  children  in  the  Hartlepools 
alone,  and  altogether  the  casualties  numbered  more  than  six 
hundred.  This  story  is  based  on  the  narrative  of  Sapper 
W.  Hall,  R.E.,  one  of  the  few  English  soldiers  who  have  been 
under  an  enemy's  fire  on  English  soil.  Sapper  Hall  was  badly 
wounded.] 

IT  is  just  a  fortnight  to-day  since  the  German  warships 
came  up  out  of  the  mist,  bombarded  Hartlepool, 
wrecked  many  of  the  houses,  killed  a  lot  of  defence- 
less women,  children  and  men,  and  then  tore  away 
into  the  mist  as  hard  as  they  could  steam.  Our 
own  warships  nearly  got  up  with  them,  and  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  mist,  never  one  of  those  vessels 
which  were  so  valiant  in  bombarding  helpless  towns 
would  have  got  back  to  Germany. 

A   great   deal   of   confusion   has    been   caused   in 

182 


THE   RUNAWAY  RAIDERS  183 

telling  the  story  of  the  raids  on  the  Hartlepools, 
the  two  places  being  hopelessly  mixed  up,  They 
are,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  quite  separate  towns,  with 
separate  mayors  and  corporations. 

Hartlepool  itself,  where  we  now  are,  is  on  the 
coast,  facing  the  sea;  West  Hartlepool  is  two  miles 
inland.  Both  towns  were  bombarded,  but  it  is 
hereabouts  that  most  of  the  damage  by  shells  was 
done,  and  many  children  and  grown-up  people  killed. 
It  was  just  over  there,  too,  that  eight  Territorials 
were  standing  on  the  front,  watching  the  firing,  when 
a  shell  struck  them  and  killed  seven  of  the  men  and 
wounded  the  eighth.1 

It  was  soon  after  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  we  rushed  out  of  our  billets  into  the  streets, 
and,  looking  seaward,  we  saw  warships  firing. 

In  our  billets  we  had  heard  the  booming  of  guns, 
and  supposing  that  it  was  our  own  warships  practising 
or  fighting,  we  had  hurried  out  to  see  the  fun.  A  few 
seconds  was  enough  to  tell  us  that  there  was  no  fun 
in  it,  but  that  this  was  a  bombardment  in  deadly 
earnest  by  the  enemy. 

The  German  ships  were  easily  visible  from  the 
shore,  and  did  not  seem  to  be  very  far  away — about 
two  miles.  They  were  firing  rapidly,  and  there  was 
a  deafening  noise  as  the  shells  screamed  and  burst — 
the  crashing  of  the  explosions,  the  smashing  of 
immense  numbers  of  window-panes  by  the  concussion, 

1  I  saw  the  "  eighth  *'•  man  not  far  from  the  spot  where  he  and 
his  comrades  were  standing  when  the  shell  burst.  He  had  been 
wounded  by  shell  splinters  on  the  head,  which,  when  I  saw  him, 
was  bandaged.  The  effect  of  the  explosion,  he  said,  was  terrible. 
He  declared  that  the  German  warships  were  flying  the  British 
white  ensign,  and  that  he  could  distinguish  their  flags  quiet 
clearly.— W.  W. 


184     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

and  the  thudding  of  the  shells  and  fragments  against 
walls  and  buildings. 

Coming  so  unexpectedly,  the  bombardment  caused 
intense  excitement  and  commotion,  and  men,  women 
and  children  rushed  into  the  streets  to  see  what  was 
happening — the  worst  thing  they  could  do,  because 
the  splinters  of  shell,  horrible  jagged  fragments, 
were  flying  all  about  and  killing  and  maiming  the 
people  they  struck.  A  number  of  little  children 
who  had  rushed  into  the  streets,  as  children  will, 
were  killed  or  wounded. 

As  soon  as  we  realised  what  was  happening,  we 
rushed  back  and  got  our  rifles  and  hurried  into  the 
street  again,  and  did  what  we  could ;  but  rifles  were 
absolutely  useless  against  warships,  and  the  incessant 
bursting  of  shells  and  the  scattering  of  fragments  and 
bullets  made  it  most  dangerous  to  be  in  the  open. 

Shells  were  striking  and  bursting  everywhere, 
wrecking  houses,  ploughing  into  the  ground,  and 
battering  the  concrete  front  of  the  promenade. 

The  houses  hereabouts,  overlooking  the  sea,  were 
big  and  easy  targets  for  the  Germans,  who  blazed 
away  like  madmen,  though  they  must  have  been  in 
terror  all  the  time  when  they  thought  that  their 
cannonading  was  sure  to  fetch  British  warships  up. 
How  thankful  they  must  have  felt  for  that  protecting 
mist ! 

The  Hartlepool  Rovers'  Football  Ground  is  very 
near  the  sea  and  the  lighthouse,  and  it  came  under 
heavy  fire.  One  of  our  men,  Sapper  Liddle,  was  near 
the  wall  of  the  ground  when  a  shell  burst  and  mortally 
wounded  him,  injuring  him  terribly.  It  was  not 
possible  to  get  at  him  and  bring  him  into  hospital 
for  a  long  time,  but  when  he  was  brought  here  every- 


THE   RUNAWAY  RAIDERS  185 

thing  that  was  humanly  possible  was  done  for  him. 
He  lingered  for  a  few  hours,  then  died. 

Meanwhile,  death  and  destruction  were  being 
dealt  out  all  around  us,  and  the  land  batteries  were 
making  such  reply  as  they  could  to  the  Germans' 
heavy  guns.  This  reply  was  a  very  plucky  per- 
formance, for  Hartlepool  is  not  a  fortified  place  in 
anything  like  the  real  meaning  of  the  word,  and  our 
light  guns  were  no  match  for  the  weapons  of  the 
German  battle-cruisers. 

As  it  happened,  no  damage  was  done  to  the  guns ; 
but  fearful  mischief  was  caused  to  buildings  near  us. 
A  shell  struck  the  Baptist  Chapel  fair  and  square  on 
the  front,  and  drove  a  hole  in  it  big  enough  for  the 
passage  of  a  horse  and  cart;  then  it  wrecked  the 
inside  and  went  out  at  the  other  end  of  the  chapel, 
again  making  a  huge  hole. 

House  after  house  was  struck  and  shattered,  in 
some  cases  people  being  buried  in  the  ruins.  Some 
of  the  houses  are  very  old,  and  pretty  well  collapsed 
when  a  shell  struck  them  and  burst. 

While  the  bombardment  was  in  progress  we  were 
doing  our  best,  but  that  could  not  be  much.  There 
was  not  much  cause  for  laughter,  but  I  remember 
that  a  shell  came  and  burst  near  us,  and  made  us  see 
the  humour  of  a  little  incident.  The  explosion 
itself  did  no  actual  damage,  but  the  concussion  and 
force  of  it  were  so  violent  that  a  sapper  was  jerked 
up  into  the  air  and  came  down  with  a  crash.  He 
picked  himself  up  and  scuttled  as  hard  as  he  could 
make  for  shelter. 

The  firing  was  so  sudden  and  so  fierce  that  it  was 
begun  and  finished  almost  before  it  was  possible  to 
realise  that  it  had  taken  place.  Most  of  the  men  of 


186     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Hartlepool  were  at  work  when  the  bombardment 
started,  and  some  of  them  were  killed  at  their  work, 
or  as  they  were  rushing  home  to  see  to  their  wives 
and  children,  while  some  were  killed  as  they  fled  for 
safety. 

The  streets  were  crowded  with  fugitives  during 
the  bombardment,  and  it  was  owing  to  this  that  so 
many  people  were  killed  and  wounded.  The  shells 
burst  among  them  with  awful  results. 

While  the  Germans  were  firing  point-blank  at  the 
buildings  facing  the  sea,  and  deliberately  killing 
inoffensive  people,  they  were  also  bombarding  West 
Hartlepool,  and  doing  their  best  to  blow  up  the  gas- 
works, destroy  the  big  shipbuilding  yards  there,  and 
set  fire  to  the  immense  stacks  of  timber  which  are 
stored  in  the  yards. 

People  were  killed  who  were  five  or  six  miles  from 
the  guns  of  the  warships,  and  in  one  street  alone  in 
West  Hartlepool  seven  persons,  mostly  women, 
were  killed.  Several  babies  were  killed  in  their 
homes,  and  little  children  were  killed  as  they  played 
in  the  streets. 

A  good  deal  has  been  said  about  the  number  of 
shells  that  were  fired  from  the  German  warships, 
and  some  people  had  put  down  a  pretty  low  total ; 
but  from  what  I  saw,  I  should  think  that  certainly 
five  hundred  shells  of  all  sorts  were  fired  by  these 
valiant  Germans,  who  knew  that  they  were  perfectly 
safe  so  far  as  the  shore  was  concerned,  and  took 
mighty  good  care  not  to  be  caught  by  British  ships 
of  their  own  size  and  power;  but  that  will  surely 
come  later,  and  the  men  of  the  North  will  get  their 
own  back. 

I  cannot  say  anything  about  the  actual  defences, 


THE   RUNAWAY  RAIDERS  187 

or  what  the  military  did;  but  the  few  troops  who 
were  here  did  their  best,  and  a  couple  of  destroyers 
bore  a  brave  part  in  the  affair. 

A  shell  fell  in  the  lines  of  the  Royal  Engineers, 
and  several  dropped  in  the  lines  of  the  18th  Service 
Battalion  of  the  Durham  Light  Infantry. 

It  was  very  quickly  known,  as  I  have  mentioned, 
that  seven  out  of  eight  men  of  the  Durhams,  who 
were  watching  the  firing — thinking,  like  everybody 
else,  that  it  was  some  sort  of  battle  practice,  till 
they  learned  the  real  truth — had  been  killed  by  the 
explosion  of  a  shell,  and  that  the  eighth  man  had 
been  wounded;  but  there  were  several  other  cases 
of  men  being  wounded  which  were  not  known  about 
until  later,  because  of  the  great  difficulties  of  dis- 
covering the  men  amongst  the  ruins  which  the  shell- 
fire  had  caused. 

From  the  moment  the  bombardment  began  there 
was  an  awful  commotion,  and  the  noise  grew  until 
it  was  simply  deafening.  The  whole  town  literally 
shook,  and  while  the  firing  lasted  there  was  a  tremend- 
ous and  continuous  vibration — everything  shivered 
and  rattled.  One  shell  struck  the  wall  of  the  football 
ground,  which  faces  the  sea;  not  far  away  a  hole 
was  dug  in  the  ground  by  one  of  the  very  first  of  the 
shells  that  were  fired;  the  fine  old  church  of  St. 
Hilda  was  damaged,  and  the  side  of  the  rectory  was 
simply  peppered  by  a  bursting  shell. 

In  the  particular  place  where  I  and  my  chums 
were,  the  shells  were  coming  in  a  shower,  and  doing 
enormous  mischief.  We  could  see  that  plainly 
enough.  But  it  was  not  until  later,  when  the  German 
warships  had  steamed  away  as  hard  as  they  could 
go,  that  we  knew  how  great  the  damage  had  been, 


188     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

and  how  many  lives  had  been  lost  and  people 
wounded. 

The  German  ships  fired  from  one  side  to  begin 
with,  then  they  turned  round  and  continued  the 
bombardment  from  the  other  side,  so  they  must 
have  been  ready  loaded  all  round.  The  size  of  the 
shots  varied  from  the  12-inch  shells,  perfect  monsters, 
to  the  small  ones  which  came  so  fast  and  did  so  much 
havoc.  The  fact  that  some  of  the  huge  shells  were 
found  unexploded  after  the  bombardment  proves 
that  ships  of  great  size  took  part  in  the  raid. 

Some  time  after  the  firing  began  I  felt  a  blow  on 
my  thigh,  and  fell  to  the  ground,  helpless,  though 
I  did  not  know  at  the  time  what  had  happened.  At 
last,  when  the  firing — which  continued  for  about 
forty  minutes — ceased,  stretcher-bearers  and  volun- 
teer ambulance  workers  set  about  collecting  the 
wounded,  and  I  was  picked  up  and  brought  to  the 
hospital  here. 

It  was  then  found  that  I  had  been  struck  on  the 
thigh  by  part  of  the  cap  of  a  shell,  and  that  I  had 
sustained  a  compound  fracture.  The  piece  of  metal 
was  still  sticking  in  me — you  can  see  it  later.  It 
was  taken  out,  and  I  was  promptly  and  most  kindly 
looked  after,  as  were  all  our  men  who  had  been 
wounded  and  were  brought  in.  Poor  Liddle,  as  I 
have  told  you,  was  not  discovered  for  some  time; 
then  he  was  found  and  brought  here,  and  died  late 
at  night,  in  spite  of  all  the  efforts  that  were  made 
to  save  him.  He  had  a  real  soldier's  funeral — just 
as  had  the  rest  of  the  soldiers  who  had  been  killed. 

As  soon  as  the  bombardment  was  over  the  people 
set  to  work  to  collect  the  dead  as  well  as  save  the 
wounded,  and  both  were  heavy  tasks;  but  there 


[To  face  p.  188. 

"  THE    '  HOGUE  '    BEGAN    TO    TURN    TURTLE.       THE    FOUR   IMMENSE 
FUNNELS    BROKE    AWAY  "  (p.   173). 


THE   RUNAWAY   RAIDERS  189 

were  many  willing  hands.  Even  in  half -an -hour  a 
wonderful  difference  had  been  made  in  the  streets, 
and  those  people  who  had  been  rushing  towards 
the  country  for  safety  began  to  return.  They 
brought  in  reports  of  losses  which  had  been  suffered 
in  the  outskirts  through  shells ;  but,  as  I  have  said, 
the  worst  cases  of  all  were  just  about  here. 

One  house  was  completely  demolished,  and  the 
father,  mother,  and  half-a-dozen  children  were 
killed,  so  that  home  and  family  were  wiped  out  in 
an  instant.  One  part  of  the  Old  Town  is  so  utterly 
destroyed  that  it  is  called  "  Louvain,"  and  if  you 
look  at  the  houses  there  you  will  find  that  they  are 
just  heaps  of  rubbish  and  ruins,  with  beds  and 
furniture  and  so  on,  buried. 

Shells  had  exploded  in  the  streets,  in  houses,  fields, 
at  the  gasworks,  in  shipyards — anywhere  and  every- 
where— and  one  big  thing  stuck  itself  in  a  house  and 
is  kept  as  a  relic.  Another  crashed  through  four 
railway  waggons,  and  another  shell,  which  travelled 
low  on  the  ground,  went  through  several  sets  of  the 
steel  metals  on  the  railway,  which  shows  the  fearful 
penetrative  power  of  the  projectile. 

If  the  Germans  had  had  their  way,  no  doubt  this 
place  would  have  been  wiped  out  altogether.  They 
made  a  dead  set  at  the  gasworks,  but  did  not  do  a 
great  deal  of  mischief  there,  though  it  meant  that 
that  night  a  lot  of  people  had  to  burn  candles  instead 
of  gas.  And  though  more  than  a  hundred  people 
were  killed,  and  the  Germans  fondly  supposed  that 
they  had  struck  terror  into  the  place,  they  had  done 
nothing  of  the  sort. 

The  residents  were  soon  clearing  up  the  ruins  and 
settling  down  again  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 


190     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

The  most  pitiful  of  all  the  tasks  was  that  of  dealing 
with  the  dead  and  wounded  children,  and  the  re- 
membrance of  the  sad  sights  will  be  the  best  of  all 
inspirations  for  some  of  our  fellows  when  the  day 
comes  on  which  they  will  get  their  own  back  from 
the  Germans. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  learned  that  at  about 
the  same  time  as  we  were  being  shelled  at  Hartle- 
pool,  German  warships  had  appeared  off  the  entirely 
undefended  places  of  Whitby  and  Scarborough. 
They  call  these  old  fishing  ports  fortified,  but  that 
is  an  absolute  untruth,  and  they  know  it.  But  the 
Germans  were  out  to  kill  and  destroy,  and  they  did 
both  in  a  manner  which  showed  that  they  had  made 
calculations  to  a  minute,  and  that  their  spies  had  been 
long  at  work. 

At  Scarborough  the  raiders  did  a  lot  of  damage 
before  they  ran  away.  They  had  prepared  one  of 
their  boasted  surprises  for  us,  and  we  got  it;  but 
that  was  nothing  to  the  surprise  we  gave  them  on 
Christmas  morning  at  Cuxhaven — a  real  fortified 
place — and  nothing,  I  hope  and  believe,  to  the 
surprises  that  our  Navy  has  in  store  for  the  German 
naval  runaways. 

You  ask  how  long  shall  I  be  in  hospital. 

That  is  hard  to  tell;  but  I  have  been  here  two 
weeks  already,  and  I  suppose  that  I  shall  be  here  for 
at  least  six  weeks  longer. 

I  keep  the  piece  of  shell  which  struck  me,  in  a  bit 
of  brown  paper  in  the  cupboard  near  the  head  of 
the  bed.  I  cannot  rise  to  get  it  myself,  but  if  you 
will  open  the  little  door  you  will  find  it.  It's  the  sort 
of  thing  which  caused  such  havoc  in  the  Hartlepools 
when  the  German  warships  came  and  bombarded  us. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CAMPAIGNING    WITH    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

[The  Highland  regiments  have  made  a  great  impression  upon 
the  Germans  since  the  war  began,  and  the  kilted  troops  have 
added  to  their  laurels  in  the  field.  This  story  of  fighting  with 
the  Highlanders  is  told  by  Private  A.  Veness,  2nd  Battalion 
Seaforth  Highlanders,  who  was  wounded  and  invalided  home.] 

I  HAVE  served  eight  years  in  the  Seaforth  Highlanders. 
To  begin  with  I  was  a  bandsman,  but  when  the  war 
broke  out  and  I  was  recalled  to  the  colours,  I  became  an 
ordinary  private,  and  the  only  music  that  the  Germans 
heard  me  play  was  the  rattle  of  my  rifle.  When  we 
landed  in  France  and  marched  off  to  the  front  the 
girls  seemed  to  have  a  special  fancy  for  the  kilted 
men — at  any  rate  they  crowded  up  and  hugged  and 
kissed  those  they  could  get  hold  of;  so  we  went  off 
in  very  good  spirits,  singing  and  whistling  popular 
tunes,  not  forgetting  the  Marseillaise  and  "  Tipperary." 
Being  a  strange  country  we  saw  a  good  many 
things  that  were  new  and  very  strange  to  us  till  we 
got  used  to  them.  One  amusing  incident  happened 
as  soon  as  we  were  in  Belgium,  and  that  was  the  sight 
of  a  big  fat  man  being  pulled  in  a  little  cart  by  two 
dogs.  It  was  funny,  but  still  it  made  us  angry,  for 
we  rather  looked  upon  it  as  cruelty  to  animals;  so 
we  shouted,  "  Lazy  brute  !  "  "  Get  out  and  give  the 
dogs  a  ride  !  "  and  so  on,  and  I  daresay  the  man  was 

191 


192     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

greatly  surprised,  though  he  didn't  know  what  we 
were  saying.  In  a  little  while  we  understood  that 
dogs  are  extensively  used  for  haulage  purposes  in 
Belgium  and  we  ceased  to  take  any  special  notice 
of  them. 

It  was  not  long  after  landing  before  we  were  told 
to  be  ready  for  the  Germans,  but  that  proved  a  false 
alarm.  We  were,  however,  to  get  our  baptism  of 
fire  in  a  dramatic  fashion,  and  that  baptism  naturally 
dwells  in  my  mind  more  vividly  than  many  of  the 
far  bigger  things  which  happened  later  in  the  war. 

A  terrific  thunderstorm  broke,  and  a  party  of  us 
were  ordered  to  billet  in  a  barn.  We  climbed  up 
into  a  loft  and  began  to  make  ourselves  comfortable 
and  to  make  some  tea.  We  had  scarcely  got  the 
welcome  tea  to  our  lips  when  the  hurried  order  came 
to  clear  out  of  the  building,  and  into  the  thunderstorm 
we  dashed.  Then  the  German  shells  began  to  fly  and 
burst,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  barn  was  struck  and 
shattered,  so  that  we  had  a  very  narrow  escape. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  we  had  our  first  man 
killed.  He  was  a  chum  of  mine,  a  bandsman,  named 
Dougal  McKinnon.  While  we  were  having  our  tea 
Dougal  was  under  cover  in  the  trenches,  in  front  of 
the  barn,  with  his  company.  They  were  under  shell 
fire,  and  he  was  killed  by  bursting  shrapnel.  He  was 
buried  close  to  the  spot  where  he  fell,  and  being  the 
first  of  our  men  to  be  killed  in  action  we  felt  it  very 
deeply.  Many  times  after  that,  when  our  chums 
were  killed,  we  had  to  leave  them,  because  we  had  no 
time  to  bury  them. 

We  got  on  the  move,  and  when  night  came  it  was 
awful  to  see  the  whole  countryside  lit  up  with  the 
flames  of  burning  buildings — farms  and  houses  and 


CAMPAIGNING   WITH  HIGHLANDERS     193 

other  places  which  had  been  set  on  fire  by  the  Germans. 
There  was  a  farm  which  was  blazing  furiously  and  I 
shall  never  forget  it,  for  the  good  reason  that  in 
marching  we  managed  to  circle  it  three  times  before 
we  could  get  properly  on  the  march  and  go  ahead. 

We  pushed  on  to  Cambrai,  where  the  cannonading 
was  truly  terrible.  My  company  was  in  support  of 
another  company  in  advance.  We  lay  behind  a 
bank,  sheltering,  for  a  few  hours.  At  the  back  of  us 
was  a  British  howitzer  battery,  in  a  bit  of  a  wood,  so 
that  we  were  between  two  awful  fires.  It  was  in- 
describable— the  deafening  din,  which  never  ceased 
or  lessened  while  the  duel  raged,  the  excitement,  the 
danger,  and  the  nerve-strain;  yet  there  was  some- 
thing fascinating  in  watching  the  firing  and  wondering 
what  was  going  to  happen. 

It  is  wonderful  to  think  of  the  working  of  the 
human  mind  at  such  a  time,  and  strange  to  recall 
the  odd  things  one  does.  In  our  own  case,  as  we 
had  to  go  on  sheltering  and  watching,  we  amused 
ourselves  by  counting  the  number  of  shells  that 
dropped  within  a  certain  area  which  was  well  under 
our  observation.  The  area  was,  roughly  speaking, 
about  200  yards  square,  and  in  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  no  fewer  than  seventy- six  shells  exploded 
over  that  particular  spot.  They  were  shrapnel  and 
high  explosive  and  never  struck  the  ground — they 
burst  in  the  air,  and  at  one  time  I  counted  six  shells 
bursting  in  the  air  together.  That  gives  you  some 
idea  of  the  tremendous  nature  of  the  German  shell  fire. 
Luckily  a  great  number  of  the  shells  did  not  explode 
at  all,  or  few  if  any  of  us  could  have  got  away. 

It  is  impossible  to  praise  too  highly  the  British 
artillery's  work.  To  my  own  personal  knowledge 


194     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

there  was  one  battery  that  day — I  don't  know  which 
it  was — which  was  under  fire  for  at  least  seven  hours 
continuously  without  shifting ;  and  during  the  whole 
of  that  time  they  were  replying  to  the  German 
guns. 

After  that  shattering  experience  we  camped  in  a 
cornfield  at  night,  and  were  settling  down  to  sleep 
when  were  we  ordered  to  move  again.  For  hours, 
worn  and  weary  though  we  were,  we  were  on  the 
march,  and  thankful  we  were  when  we  halted  in  a 
village  and  got  a  box  of  biscuits  from  the  French 
as  a  midday  snack.  We  had  been  forced  to  part 
with  most  of  our  equipment  and  many  of  the  great- 
coats were  thrown  away;  but  I  felt  that  I  should 
want  mine  and  I  stuck  to  it — and  I  am  wearing  it 
now.  It  has  had  plenty  of  rough  usage — and  here 
are  the  holes  made  by  a  piece  of  flying  shrapnel. 

I  am  proud  to  say  that  the  general  in  command 
of  our  division  congratulated  the  regiment  on  its 
splendid  marching,  and  I  think  we  did  a  fine  thing, 
for  in  about  twelve  hours  we  covered  about  thirty- 
two  miles — actual  marching,  with  just  a  halt  here 
and  there.  The  Germans  had  done  their  best  to 
trap  us,  but  they  had  not  succeeded,  and  we  escaped, 
to  turn  the  tables  on  them  with  a  vengeance. 

That  night  I  had  to  report  sick — there  was  some- 
thing wrong  with  my  ankles.  I  was  unable  to  march, 
so  I  got  a  lift  on  a  limber-waggon  of  the  88th  Battery 
of  the  Royal  Field  Artillery.  During  the  ride, 
which  lasted  all  night,  I  went  through  some  of  the 
finest  country  I  ever  saw.  It  was  particularly 
beautiful  because  of  the  time  of  the  year,  late  autumn, 
and  the  clear  light  of  the  full  moon.  This  moon- 
light ride  on  a  limber  will  be  always  associated  in 


CAMPAIGNING   WITH   HIGHLANDERS     195 

my  memory  with  the  grandest  spectacle  of  its  sort 
I  saw  during  the  war. 

The  battery  was  travelling  along  a  switchback 
road,  and  I  was  wrapped  up  in  the  beautiful  and 
peaceful  scenery — it  was  hard  to  believe  that  this 
calm  landscape  was  the  scene  of  war  and  that  the 
splendid  British  gunners  I  was  with  had  been  dealing 
death  and  destruction  amongst  the  Germans  so 
lately. 

Not  far  away  was  a  river,  winding  like  a  silver 
thread  over  the  face  of  the  country,  and  suddenly, 
from  the  river,  there  rose  an  immense  mass  of 
flame  and  smoke,  followed  quickly  by  a  thunderous 
rumbling  roar. 

I  knew  at  once  that  a  bridge  had  been  blown  up. 
I  cannot  tell  you  who  destroyed  it — Germans  or 
French;  all  I  know  is  that  I  saw  the  sight  and  it 
was  the  most  remarkable  of  its  kind  that  I  witnessed — 
and  I  saw  four  splendid  bridges  destroyed  in  this 
manner. 

At  one  time  we  had  crossed  a  fine  bridge  and  as 
soon  as  we  had  done  so  a  hole  was  dug  and  a  mine 
was  laid  in  the  centre.  Then  our  cyclist  section  was 
sent  out  to  report  what  was  going  to  happen  and 
the  bridge  was  blown  up.  In  this  case  we  were  the 
last  to  cross  before  the  explosion  occurred. 

At  an  early  stage  of  the  operations  I  was  lucky 
enough  to  see  a  very  fine  fight  in  the  air,  a  duel 
between  a  French  airman  and  a  German  airman. 
I  was  able  to  follow  the  duel  for  miles.  The  men 
in  the  aeroplanes  were  firing  revolvers  at  each  other 
and  we  could  hear  the  crack  of  the  shots,  though 
we  could  not  see  any  definite  results,  because  the  duel 
got  too  far  away.  This  was  the  first  fight  in  the 


196     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

air  that  I  saw,  and  I  watched  it  with  extraordinary 
interest,  especially  as  we  all  keenly  hoped  that  the 
German  would  be  brought  down,  because  he  had 
been  flying  over  our  lines  and  quickly  directed  shell 
fire  on  us  owing  to  his  signals.  For  fully  twenty 
minutes  I  watched  this  air  fight.  It  was  wonderful 
to  see  the  swiftness  with  which  the  machines  dived 
and  dodged.  The  Frenchman  circled  over  the 
German  in  the  most  skilful  and  daring  manner  and 
time  after  time  threatened  his  existence. 

Another  remarkable  incident  I  witnessed  at  this 
time  was  the  escape  of  a  German  cavalryman.  He 
was  an  Uhlan,  a  scout,  I  take  it,  and  quite  alone. 
We  were  on  the  march  and  had  been  told  that  the 
German  cavalry  were  in  large  numbers  near  us, 
and  so  that  we  should  be  ready  for  them  we  took 
up  a  position,  with  some  Irish  infantry  to  the  left 
of  us. 

We  were  lying  in  position  on  a  hill,  and  in  front 
of  us  was  three  or  four  miles  of  good  flat  country, 
so  that  we  should  have  had  a  fine  view  of  cavalry 
in  force.  We  watched  and  waited,  but  the  threatened 
cavalry  did  not  come — all  we  saw  was  this  solitary 
Uhlan,  a  mere  speck  on  the  wide  plain. 

As  soon  as  the  Uhlan  was  seen  the  rifles  rattled 
and  it  was  expected  that  he  would  be  potted;  but 
he  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life.  The  Irish  battalion 
gave  him  a  particularly  heavy  fire — the  Seaforths 
were  too  far  off  to  reach  him  with  the  rifle;  but  the 
Uhlan  galloped  gaily  on,  and  it  was  quite  amusing 
to  watch  him.  No  doubt  he  thoroughly  enjoyed 
himself — at  any  rate  he  galloped  unscathed  across 
two  or  three  miles  of  open  country,  and  got  away. 

It  was  not  until  we  were  within  about  eighteen 


CAMPAIGNING   WITH  HIGHLANDERS     197 

miles  of  Paris  that  the  retirement  ended  and  we 
began  the  offensive.  We  had  had  a  very  hard  time, 
and  were  to  have  a  few  days'  rest,  but  we  never  got 
it.  Yet  in  spite  of  the  hardships  we  had  some  very 
pleasant  times,  because  of  the  beauty  of  the  country 
and  the  season. 

Joyful  indeed  was  the  day  when  we  began  to  drive 
the  Germans  back,  and  it  was  the  more  joyful  because 
the  advance  was  almost  as  swift  as  our  retirement 
had  been. 

On  that  wonderful  advance  we  saw  some  horrible 
things — I  will  not  dwell  on  German  barbarities, 
though  there  were  many  proofs  of  them — including 
great  numbers  of  horses  which  had  been  killed  or 
wounded  and  left  just  where  they  had  fallen.  No 
attempt  had  been  made  to  dispose  of  the  decaying 
carcases  and  many  a  poor  brute  had  died  a  lingering 
death. 

I  was  greatly  struck  by  the  Germans'  cruelty  to 
their  horses,  in  leaving  them  like  this ;  but  that  was 
one  proof  of  the  hurriedness  of  the  enemy's  retreat — 
the  Germans  who  had  got  so  near  Paris  and  were 
then  flung  right  away  back  from  the  city.  I  need 
hardly  say  that  whenever  a  sign  of  movement  was 
noticed  in  a  horse  a  man  was  sent  to  put  the  poor 
thing  out  of  its  misery. 

There  was  still  plenty  of  hardship  to  put  up  with, 
but  that  did  not  matter  so  much  when  we  were 
driving  back  the  Germans. 

I  remember  very  well  one  day  and  night  of  un- 
common wretchedness.  It  was  raining  heavily  and 
continuously,  and  in  the  deluge  I  and  three  more 
men  were  sent  on  outpost — to  observe  and  keep  our 
eyes  open,  and  so  that  we  could  do  that  to  the  best 


198     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

advantage  we  took  up  a  position  on  the  top  of  a 
hayrick.  A  perfect  hurricane  was  blowing,  and  the 
almost  solid  rain  was  fairly  driven  into  us;  but  we 
stuck  it  through,  and  hung  on  to  the  top  of  the  hay- 
stack till  it  was  dark,  then  we  thankfully  got  down 
and  went  into  an  open  shed  for  shelter — a  building 
that  was  just  a  protection  for  wheat-stacks. 

I  had  had  my  turn  of  picketing  and  was  lying 
down  to  get  a  snatch  of  sleep  when  I  was  ordered 
to  go  up  a  road  about  a  mile  and  a  half  away,  to  find 
out  whether  our  relief  had  come.  So  out  into  the 
darkness  and  the  wind  and  rain  I  staggered  and 
fought  my  way  through  what  was  the  worst  night 
for  weather  that  I  ever  saw.  On  and  on  I  and  my 
comrades  went,  looking  hard  for  our  relief,  but  we 
never  saw  it,  and  we  waited  there  till  next  morning, 
when  we  rejoined  our  brigade. 

Those  were  times  when  there  was  little  rest  for 
the  Seaforths,  or  anybody  else. 

The  aeroplanes  gave  us  little  chance  of  rest,  and 
at  times  they  had  an  uncanny  knack  of  finding  us. 

One  day,  after  a  long,  hard  march,  we  put  into  a 
wood  for  shelter.  A  French  supply  column  was 
already  in  the  wood  and  doubtless  the  Germans 
knew  of  or  suspected  this;  at  any  rate  a  German 
aeroplane  came  over  us,  with  the  result  that  in  a 
few  minutes  we  were  shelled  out.  We  rested  in 
another  part  of  the  wood  till  it  was  dark,  then  we 
were  taken  on  to  billets,  but  we  had  to  make  another 
move,  because  we  were  shelled  out  again.  That 
was  the  sort  of  thing  which  came  along  as  part  of 
the  day's  work;  and  as  part  of  the  day's  work  we 
took  it  cheerfully. 

When  we  got  the  Germans  on  the  move  we  took 


CAMPAIGNING   WITH   HIGHLANDERS     199 

prisoners  from  time  to  time.  I  was  on  guard  over 
a  few  prisoners,  part  of  a  crowd,  when  one  of  them 
came  up  to  me  and  to  my  amazement  I  recognised 
him  as  a  German  who  had  worked  in  Soho  Square 
and  used  often  to  go  to  the  same  place  as  myself 
for  dinner — a  little  shop  in  Hanway  Street,  at  the 
Oxford  Street  end  of  Tottenham  Court  Road.  The 
prisoner  recognised  me  at  once  and  I  recognised  him. 
To  show  how  ignorant  the  Germans  were  of  the  enemy 
they  were  fighting,  I  may  tell  you  that  this  man  said 
to  me,  "  If  we  had  known  we  were  fighting  the  English, 
I  would  never  have  left  London  !  " 

Was  it  not  strange  that  the  two  of  us,  who  had  so 
often  met  as  friends  for  dinner  in  the  little  foreign 
shop,  should  meet  again  as  enemies  on  the  banks  of 
the  Marne  ? 

I  am  now  coming  to  a  sorrowful  personal  incident 
—the  loss  of  my  chum,  Lance-Corporal  Lamont. 
We  had  been  together  from  the  beginning  of  the 
war  and  had  shared  everything  there  was,  even  to 
the  waterproof  sheet.  He  would  carry  the  sheet 
one  day  and  I  would  carry  it  the  next,  and  whenever 
such  a  thing  had  to  be  done  as  fetching  drinking- 
water,  often  a  very  dangerous  task,  we  would  share 
that  too. 

Throughout  one  awful  night  of  ceaseless  rain, 
which  soaked  us  to  the  skin,  the  two  of  us  were  in 
the  trenches — we  had  dug  ourselves  in,  with  just 
ordinary  head  cover.  We  lay  there  till  next  morning, 
when  an  officer  came  along  my  platoon  and  asked  if 
we  had  any  drinking-water. 

We  told  him  that  we  had  not.  . 

The  officer  said,  "  If  you  care  to  risk  it,  one  of 
you  can  go  and  fetch  some  water." 


200     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

We  decided  to  take  the  risk,  which  was  great, 
because  to  get  the  water  meant  getting  to  a  farm- 
house just  behind  us,  under  a  heavy  fire. 

My  chum  volunteered  to  go,  and,  taking  the  water- 
bottles,  he  left  the  trench  and  started  to  cross  the 
open  ground  between  us  and  the  farmhouse.  While 
he  was  doing  this  the  order  came  for  us  to  advance — 
and  I  never  saw  him  again. 

It  was  soon  my  turn  to  be  put  out  of  action.  A 
pretty  stiff  fight  was  going  on  and  the  fire  was  so 
heavy  that  it  was  very  dangerous  to  be  in  the  open ; 
but  it  was  necessary  for  me  and  a  few  more  men  to 
cross  a  bit  of  open  ground,  and  we  made  a  start. 
We  had  not  gone  far  when  a  shell  came  between  me 
and  another  man  who  was  at  my  side.  The  shell 
struck  him  fair  on  the  arm  and  shattered  it.  He 
fell  over  on  his  side,  and  as  he  did  so  he  said,  "  For 
Heaven's  sake  cut  my  equipment  off !  " 

I  took  out  my  jack-knife  and  slit  the  equipment 
across  the  shoulders  and  let  it  drop  away  from  him. 

He  crawled  off  and  I  was  told  afterwards  that 
while  he  was  trying  to  creep  to  shelter  he  was  struck 
again  and  killed. 

I  crawled  as  best  I  could  up  to  the  firing  line,  but 
when  I  got  there  I  found  that  there  was  no  room  in 
the  trenches  for  me,  so  I  had  to  lie  in  the  open.  I 
had  not  been  there  long  before  a  fellow  next  to  me 
asked  me  what  time  it  was.  I  took  out  my  watch 
and  told  him  it  was  about  eleven-fifteen — and  the 
next  thing  I  knew  was  that  I  felt  as  if  someone  had 
kicked  me  on  the  top  of  the  head. 

I  turned  round  and  said,  "  Tommy,  I'm  hit !  " 
I  became  unconscious  for  some  time,  then,  when  I  re- 
covered, I  said,  "  Tommy,  is  it  safe  to  crawl  away  ?  " 


CAMPAIGNING  WITH  HIGHLANDERS    201 

"No,"  said  Tommy,  "it's  risky.  It's  a  bit  too 
hot !  " 

"  Never  mind,"  I  answered.  "  If  I  stay  here 
much  longer  I  shall  collapse.  I'm  going  to  have  a 
shot  at  it — here  goes  !  " 

I  began  to  crawl  away,  but  I  must  have  taken  the 
wrong  direction,  for  I  was  soon  under  two  fires.  I 
was  approaching  the  mouths  of  two  or  three  of  our 
own  guns,  which  were  in  front  of  a  farmhouse. 

I  soon  found  that  this  was  a  bit  too  warm  for  me, 
and  so  I  turned  and  took  what  I  supposed  was  the 
right  direction.  I  had  had  enough  of  crawling, 
which  was  very  slow  work.  I  wanted  to  get  out  of 
it,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  rise  and  run.  That 
does  not  sound  very  brave,  but  it  was  the  better  part 
of  valour. 

I  started  to  run,  as  best  I  could ;  but  I  had  hardly 
got  going  when  a  bullet  struck  me,  as  I  supposed,  and 
I  collapsed  alongside  some  of  my  own  comrades. 

Stretcher-bearers  came  up,  in  time,  and  I  was 
carried  to  the  field  hospital.  Then  a  curious  dis- 
covery was  made,  which  was,  that  a  bullet  had  gone 
through  four  or  five  pleats  of  my  kilt  and  had  stuck 
in  my  leg,  high  up.  This  is  the  place  where  it  struck 
and  stuck  and  here's  the  bullet,  which  the  doctor 
easily  pulled  out  with  his  fingers,  for  it  had  not  pene- 
trated deeply,  owing,  I  think,  to  the  resistance  of 
the  pleats  of  my  kilt.  Apart  from  this  bullet  wound 
I  was  struck  by  shrapnel  four  times,  but  I  managed 
to  keep  going. 

I  left  the  field  hospital  the  next  day  and  joined 
an  ambulance  column  which  was  shelled  by  the 
Germans  as  it  went  along.  I  escaped  myself,  but 
one  of  the  waggons  was  completely  wrecked. 


202     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Having  recovered  from  my  wound  to  a  certain 
extent  I  went  back  to  the  regiment,  but  after  a  few 
days  I  had  to  be  invalided  home,  and  I  have  had  a 
long  and  tedious  spell  in  hospital. 

There  is  one  more  incident  I  would  like  to  mention 
by  way  of  closing.  We  halted  in  a  village  in  France 
where  we  saw  some  of  the  Turcos,  one  of  whom  was 
very  noticeable  because  he  was  proudly  wearing  the 
greatcoat  of  a  German  officer  which  he  had  secured 
on  the  battlefield,  after  killing  the  officer. 

While  we  halted,  a  batch  of  German  prisoners  was 
brought  into  the  village,  and  they  were  put  into  a 
courtyard  between  two  rows  of  cottages.  No  sooner 
had  this  been  done  than  an  old  man  rushed  out, 
and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  guard  he  would  have 
hurled  himself  upon  the  prisoners  and  done  his  best 
to  thrash  them. 

The  act  was  so  strange  that  I  inquired  the  reason 
for  the  old  man's  fury.  And  the  answer  I  received 
was,  "  He  remembers  1870." 


[To  face  p.  202. 

A    BULLET   STRUCK   HIM    IN    THE    BACK    AND    KILLED    HIM  "  (p.  9). 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TRANSPORT    DRIVING 

[It  was  estimated  that,  early  in  the  war,  no  fewer  than  10,000 
vehicle  workers  were  serving  with  the  colours — 3000  taxicab 
drivers,  3000  tramway  men,  and  4000  motor-'bus  drivers. 
These  trained  men  went  from  London  and  the  provinces, 
some  being  Reservists,  and  others  joining  various  regiments; 
but  a  very  large  number  went  into  the  Transport  Section, 
and  did  splendid  work.  From  this  story  by  Private  James 
Roache,  Mechanical  Transport  Section,  Siege  Artillery  Brigade, 
we  learn  something  of  the  heavy  and  perilous  work  that  falls 
to  the  lot  of  the  Transport  Section,  and  can  realise  the  enormous 
extent  to  which  the  Army  depends  upon  its  transport.] 

I  GOT  into  Ypres  about  seven  days  after  the  Germans 
had  left  the  city,  and  I  learned  from  a  school-teacher 
who  spoke  English  that  they  had  commandeered  a 
good  many  things,  and  had  pillaged  the  jewellers' 
shops  and  other  places  of  business. 

At  that  time  the  Germans  did  not  seem  to  have  done 
any  exceptional  damage ;  but  they  made  up  for  any 
neglect  later  on,  when  they  acted  like  barbarians  in 
bombarding  and  destroying  the  beautiful  old  city, 
and  smashing  its  priceless  ancient  buildings  into  ruins. 
That  is  part  of  the  system  of  savagery  which  they 
boast  about  as  "  culture." 

We  had  been  in  Ypres  about  a  week  when  the  first 
German  shell  came.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a  fearful 
havoc.  That  was  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
The  shell  dropped  plumb  into  the  prison.  There 

203 


204    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

were  a  good  many  civil  prisoners  in  the  gaol  at  the 
time,  but  I  do  not  know  what  happened  to  them, 
and  I  cannot  say  whether  any  of  the  helpless  creatures 
were  killed  or  wounded. 

At  that  time  I  was  helping  to  supply  the  Siege 
Artillery  Brigade,  the  guns  of  which — the  famous 
6  in.  howitzers — were  a  mile  or  so  out  of  the  city. 
We  had  four  cars,  each  carrying  three  tons  of  lyddite 
— twelve  tons  in  all — standing  in  the  Market  Square, 
and  exposed  to  the  full  artillery  fire  of  the  enemy. 

It  was  a  perilous  position,  for  if  a  shell  had  struck 
that  enormous  amount  of  lyddite  probably  the  whole 
city  would  have  been  wrecked,  and  the  loss  of  life 
would  have  been  appalling.  We  had  to  wait  for 
several  hours  before  we  could  move,  because  of  the 
difficulty  in  communicating  with  the  brigade;  but 
when  the  order  did  at  last  arrive,  we  lost  no  time  in 
getting  to  a  safer  place  than  the  Market  Square. 

It  was  while  we  were  standing  under  fire  that  I 
saw  a  mother  and  her  child — a  girl — struck  by  a 
fragment  of  a  bursting  shell.  They  were  the  first 
people  to  be  wounded  in  Ypres. 

The  shell — a  big  brute — burst  on  the  roof  of  a 
house,  and  the  fragments  scattered  with  terrific  force 
all  around.  People  were  flying  for  their  lives,  or 
hiding,  terror-stricken,  in  the  cellars ;  and  the  woman 
and  her  daughter  were  struck  as  we  watched  them 

fly- 

Some  of  us  rushed  up  and  found  that  one  of  the 
boots  of  the  woman  had  been  ripped  open,  and  that 
the  child  had  been  struck  on  the  face  and  badly  cut. 

I  picked  her  up,  and  saw  that  she  was  unconscious ; 
but  I  got  at  my  field-dressing  and  did  all  I  could  for 
her,  and  was  thankful  to  find  that  she  soon  came 


TRANSPORT   DRIVING  205 

back  to  her  senses,  though  she  was  suffering  terribly 
from  shock  and  began  to  cry  bitterly. 

The  mother  also  was  dreadfully  upset,  but  not 
seriously  hurt.  We  lost  no  time  in  getting  them 
into  the  underground  part  of  a  cafe  near  at  hand, 
and  there  we  had  to  leave  them.  I  don't  know  what 
became  of  them,  but  I  suppose  they  were  taken  away. 
I  often  wonder  what  has  happened  to  the  poor  little 
soul  and  her  mother,  victims,  like  so  many  thousands 
more,  of  the  German  invaders.  I  am  glad  to  know 
that  with  our  field-dressings  we  were  able  to  help  a 
good  many  civilians  who  were  wounded. 

The  four  cars  I  have  mentioned  were  big  transport- 
lorries,  made  specially  for  the  war,  and  very  fine 
work  can  be  done  with  them.  But  how  different 
the  work  is  from  that  which  we  used  to  do  at  home 
as  motor-drivers  ! — and  I  had  a  fair  experience  of 
that  before  I  joined  the  Transport  Service.  There 
was  as  much  difference  between  the  two  as  there  is 
between  this  war  and  the  South  African  War,  in 
which  I  served  in  the  Imperial  Yeomanry. 

These  lorries  carried  immense  quantities  of  ammu- 
nition, and  so  the  Germans  made  a  special  point  of 
going  for  them,  in  the  hope  of  bringing  about  a 
destructive  explosion ;  but,  taken  on  the  whole,  they 
had  very  poor  luck  that  way. 

When  the  order  came  to  us  in  the  Market  Square 
at  Ypres  to  march,  we  left  the  city  and  travelled 
along  the  roads  till  it  was  dark;  and  after  that  we 
returned  to  the  city,  taking  the  stuff  with  us.  No 
sooner  were  we  back  in  Ypres  than  the  Germans 
started  shelling  again,  after  having  ceased  fire  for 
about  four  hours. 

What  we  carried  was  wanted  for  the  guns,  but  we 


206    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

could  not  reach  them,  owing  to  the  excessive  danger 
from  the  German  fire.  It  is  a  strange  fact  that  as 
soon  as  any  stuff  was  going  through  by  transport 
the  Germans  started  shelling  it,  which  seems  to  show 
that  they  had  word  when  transports  were  on  the 
move.  They  shelled  us  constantly,  and  we  got  to 
take  the  thing  as  a  very  ordinary  part  of  the  day's 
work. 

It  was  only  when  some  uncommon  explosion 
occurred  that  we  were  roused  to  take  notice;  and 
such  an  event  took  place  one  day  when  one  of  the 
very  biggest  of  the  German  shells  burst  in  the  air 
not  far  away  from  me  with  a  tremendous  crash,  and 
made  an  immense  cloud  of  awful  smoke  and  rubbish 
as  the  fragments  struck  the  ground. 

This  explosion  was  so  near  and  so  unusual  that  I 
thought  I  would  get  hold  of  a  souvenir  of  it.  And 
so  I  did.  I  secured  a  piece  of  the  base  of  the  shell, 
and  meant  to  bring  it  home  as  a  trophy ;  but  I  had 
to  leave  it,  for  the  weight  of  the  fragment  was  95  lb., 
and  that's  a  trifle  heavy  even  for  a  transport-driver. 
This  was  certainly  one  of  the  very  biggest  and  most 
awful  of  the  German  shells  of  the  immense  number 
I  saw  explode. 

There  is,  or  was,  a  skittle-alley  in  Ypres,  near  the 
water-tower,  and  some  of  the  Munsters  were  billeted 
there.  I  was  near  the  place  when  some  very  heavy 
shelling  was  going  on,  and  I  saw  one  shell  burst  on 
the  building  with  a  terrific  report.  I  knew  at  once 
that  serious  damage  was  done,  and  that  there  must 
have  been  a  heavy  loss  of  life,  for  I  saw  wounded 
and  unwounded  men  rushing  into  the  street  from 
the  ruined  building.  Some  of  the  men  were  bandag- 
ing themselves  as  they  rushed  out.  I  knew  that 


TRANSPORT  DRIVING  207 

there  must  be  a  shocking  sight  inside  the  building; 
so  when  the  commanding  officer  said,  "  Would  you 
like  to  go  inside  and  look  at  it?  "  I  replied  that  I 
would  rather  not.  And  I  was  glad  afterwards,  for 
I  learned  that  six  poor  fellows  had  been  killed.  That 
was  the  sort  of  thing  which  was  constantly  happening 
to  our  fighting  men,  and  it  was  bad  enough;  but  it 
was  infinitely  worse  when  the  victims  were  women 
and  children,  as  they  so  often  were,  and  it  was 
the  sight  of  these  innocent  sufferers  which  was  the 
hardest  of  all  to  bear.  Some  of  our  youngsters  were 
particularly  upset. 

There  was  a  little  trumpeter  of  the  Royal  Garrison 
Artillery,  to  which  we  were  attached,  and  a  fine 
youngster  he  was,  about  sixteen  years  old.  We 
called  him  "  Baggie."  He  used  to  stick  it  very  well, 
but  at  times,  when  he  saw  women  and  children  hurt, 
he  gave  way  and  cried.  But  that  kind-heartedness 
did  not  prevent  him  from  being  always  eager  to 
come  with  us  when  we  took  the  ammunition  up  to 
the  guns  in  the  firing  line.  "  Baggie  "  never  knew 
fear  for  himself,  but  he  felt  it  badly  when  others 
were  hit  or  hurt,  and  that  took  place  day  after  day. 

There  was  another  little  trumpeter  of  the  Royal 
Engineers  who  got  badly  upset  for  the  same  reason. 
He  was  billeted  in  a  timber-yard,  and  I  saw  a  shell 
fall  in  the  yard  and  burst  and  send  the  timber  flying 
in  all  directions.  It  seemed  as  if  tremendous  mis- 
chief had  been  done,  and  that  there  must  have  been 
a  heavy  loss  of  life ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  only 
one  man  was  injured  on  the  head  and  face  by 
splinters. 

The  trumpeter  rushed  out,  and  I  went  up  and 
talked  with  him  to  cheer  him  up  a  bit. 


208     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

"  It's  no  good  !  "  he  said.  "  I  can't  stick  it  any 
longer  !  I  try  to  be  brave,  but  I  have  to  give  way  1  " 

Then  he  broke  down  and  fairly  cried,  and  a  very 
pitiful  sight  it  was,  for  he  was  only  a  kiddie,  fifteen 
or  sixteen  years  old. 

I  was  always  troubled  myself  when  I  saw  how 
these  little  chaps  were  upset;  but  they  did  not 
break  down  through  anything  like  fear — they  were 
not  afraid,  and  were  splendid  when  they  were  with 
the  men — it  was  the  suffering  and  the  fearful  sights 
they  saw  that  bowled  them  out. 

These  trumpeters — mere  lads — went  through  all 
the  marching  and  fighting  that  led  up  to  the  fearful 
business  at  Ypres,  and  they  came  out  of  the  business 
splendidly.  Little  "  Baggie,"  for  example,  was  right 
through  it  from  the  Aisne,  and  was  up  and  down 
with  the  Siege  Artillery  all  the  time.  He  was  present 
when  one  of  the  lieutenants  was  killed,  and  when  I 
last  heard  of  him  he  was  still  on  the  move  and  well ; 
and  I  sincerely  hope  that  he  is  all  right  now,  and  will 
come  safely  home. 

I  mention  these  things  about  the  youngsters  par- 
ticularly, because  they  struck  me  as  being  out  of 
the  common,  and  so  you  notice  them  more  than  the 
ordinary  matters. 

While  speaking  of  the  earlier  days  of  the  war,  I 
might  say  that,  after  the  Marne  and  the  Aisne,  when 
we  were  going  back  over  ground  that  we  knew  and 
on  which  we  fought,  we  saw  some  sickening  slaughter 
scenes,  and  realised  to  the  full  what  an  awful  thing 
a  war  like  this  is. 

One  very  peculiar  incident  which  comes  into  my 
mind  was  the  finding  of  a  dead  Uhlan  in  a  wood.  He 
had  evidently  been  badly  wounded,  and  had  made  his 


TRANSPORT  DRIVING  209 

way  into  the  wood  for  safety,  but  he  had  died  there. 
When  we  found  him  he  was  sitting  in  a  crouching 
position.  On  examining  him,  we  found  two  post- 
cards which  he  had  written.  We  could  not  read 
them,  but,  as  far  as  we  could  tell,  they  were  addressed 
to  women  of  the  same  name,  but  living  in  different 
places.  We  buried  the  Uhlan  in  the  wood,  and  handed 
the  postcards  to  a  German  officer  who  had  been  made 
prisoner,  and  he  gave  us  to  understand  that  he  would 
see  that  they  were  sent  to  their  destinations  when 
he  got  a  chance  to  despatch  them.  That  incident 
was  only  one  of  many  similar  sights  we  came  across 
in  our  part  of  the  business. 

Transport  work,  as  a  rule,  was  very  uncomfortable, 
because  it  was  mostly  done  at  night,  when  the  roads 
were  very  dark,  and  we  had  to  do  as  best  we  could 
without  lights.  Anything  like  an  ammunition  or 
supply  column  was  a  particular  mark  for  the  Germans, 
and  whenever  they  got  the  chance  they  would  do 
their  best  to  find  us  out;  and  a  favourite  way  of 
doing  this  was  to  fire  a  few  shots  in  one  place  and  a 
few  in  another,  in  the  hope  that  we  should  be  drawn 
and  reveal  our  position.  But  we  didn't  give  the 
show  away  quite  so  easily  as  that. 

I  had  many  opportunities  of  seeing  the  fine  work 
which  was  done  by  our  armoured  trains,  and  I  saw 
something  of  the  performances  of  the  aeroplanes. 
I  witnessed  several  air  fights,  but  there  was  not 
really  a  lot  to  see,  because  there  was  so  much  swift 
manoeuvring.  There  was  plenty  of  firing  at  the 
aircraft,  but  they  are  most  difficult  things  to  hit. 
One  of  the  German  aeroplanes  dropped  a  bomb  on 
Ypres.  It  fell  on  a  doctor's  house  near  the  town 
station  and  exploded,  but  it  did  not  do  any  great 


210     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

amount  of  mischief.  It  broke  the  front  door  and 
shattered  the  windows  and  knocked  the  place  about, 
but  I  fancy  that  it  did  not  hurt  or  kill  anybody. 

What  was  the  finest  sight  I  saw  while  I  was  at 
the  front?  Well,  I  think  the  best  thing  I  ever  saw 
was  the  way  some  of  our  lancers  scattered  a  far 
superior  body  of  Uhlans  and  made  them  fly.  That 
was  on  the  retirement  from  Mons.  It  was  a  very  bad 
time,  and  there  were  some  fearful  sights,  for  the  roads 
leading  from  the  town  were  crowded  with  fleeing 
women  and  children.  In  any  case  it  was  bad  enough 
to  get  along  the  road,  but  it  was  infinitely  worse  to 
make  our  way  along  through  the  crowds  of  refugees 
with  our  motor-lorries,  especially  in  view  of  what 
we  carried.  To  make  matters  worse,  we  had  got  on 
the  wrong  road,  and  it  was  necessary  to  turn  back. 
To  do  this  we  had  to  turn  round,  and,  as  there  were 
eighty  cars,  I  need  not  tell  you  what  a  business  that 
meant,  especially  with  the  enemy  harassing  us,  and 
I  dare  say  fondly  thinking  that  they  had  us  in  a 
proper  grip.  The  Germans  were  quite  close  to  us, 
and  firing,  and  we  were  ordered  to  get  down  and 
defend  the  cars.  The  road  at  this  point  was  very 
narrow,  and  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  trapped,  though 
we  were  covered  by  cavalry. 

The  country  thereabouts  did  not  seem  very  favour- 
able for  cavalry  work,  but  it  was  all  right  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  Uhlans,  who,  from  their  horses, 
potted  at  us  from  the  brow  of  the  hill  on  which  they 
stood.  The  weather  was  miserable,  dull,  and  it  was 
raining,  and,  altogether,  it  was  not  an  exhilarating 
business.  The  Uhlans  seemed  to  be  having  it  all 
their  own  way;  then  the  scene  changed  like  magic, 
and  that  was  when  the  gallant  9th  Lancers  appeared, 


TRANSPORT   DRIVING  211 

to  our  unspeakable  joy.  I  can  claim  to  understand 
something  in  a  modest  way  about  cavalry,  as  an  old 
Imperial  Yeoman,  and  I  do  know  that  there  was  no 
finer  sight  ever  seen  than  the  spectacle  of  those 
splendid  fellows  of  the  9th,  who,  without  any  sound 
of  trumpet  or  any  noise,  came  up  and  charged  the 
Uhlans.  One  body  of  Uhlans  was  on  the  brow,  two 
more  bodies  were  in  a  wood.  But  these  two  did  not 
take  any  active  part  in  the  fighting;  they  seemed 
to  wait  till  their  comrades  on  the  brow  had  paved 
the  way  with  us,  so  that  they  could  swoop  down. 
But  the  Uhlans  did  not  get  a  chance  to  swoop,  though 
they  were  three  to  one  against  our  lancers. 

Jumping  a  ditch  and  galloping  across  the  country, 
our  cavalry  were  after  the  Uhlans  like  the  wind. 
But  the  Uhlans  never  stopped  to  face  the  lance ; 
they  vanished  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  the 
fellows  who  were  watching  and  waiting  in  the  wood 
vanished,  too.  They  bolted,  and  must  have  been 
thankful  to  get  out  of  it.  All  they  knew,  probably, 
was  that  our  men  came  along  a  road  in  the  wood  till 
they  got  to  a  clear  part,  and  that  through  that  open- 
ing the  9th  were  on  them  like  a  flash,  without  firing 
a  shot.  They  managed  to  get  in  amongst  the  first 
line  of  the  Germans  with  the  lance  and  empty  some 
of  the  saddles,  while  they  themselves  had  only  one 
or  two  men  bowled  over. 

I  had  a  splendid  view  of  this  brilliant  little  affair 
—I  should  think  there  were  not  more  than  120  of 
the  9th — and  I  shall  never  forget  the  way  in  which 
the  lancers  went  for  the  enemy,  nor  the  swiftness 
with  which  the  boasted  Uhlans  scuttled  off  behind 
the  brow.  It  was  an  uncommonly  fine  piece  of 
work,  and  it  saved  our  column. 


212     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

The  Uhlans  had  another  shot  at  us  two  or  three 
days  later.  They  were  at  quite  close  range,  not 
more  than  four  or  five  hundred  yards  away,  but  we 
managed  to  keep  them  off  and  go  about  our  business, 
which  was  to  reach  the  Marne  and  the  Aisne,  and 
then  start  back.  We  had  about  a  month  on  the 
Aisne  without  making  much  progress,  though  our 
troops  were  hard  at  it  all  the  time. 

I  had  got  out  of  Ypres — thankful  to  go — and  had 
gone  towards  another  town.  It  was  about  midday, 
and  we  had  halted.  The  hot  weather  had  gone 
away,  and  the  cold  had  come.  I  was  walking  up 
and  down  to  keep  myself  warm.  Shells  were  falling 
and  bursting,  as  usual,  but  I  did  not  pay  much  at- 
tention to  them.  At  last  one  burst  about  fifty  yards 
away,  and  a  fragment  struck  me  and  knocked  me 
round,  after  which  I  fell.  At  first  I  thought  I  had 
been  struck  by  a  stone  or  a  brick  which  somebody 
had  thrown,  and  it  was  not  for  some  time  that  I 
realised  that  I  had  been  wounded  in  the  thigh  by  a 
piece  of  shell.  I  was  sent  to  England  in  due  course, 
and  here  I  am,  in  a  most  comfortable  hospital  at  the 
seaside,  ready  to  leave  for  home  in  two  or  three  days. 

My  own  experience  with  regard  to  the  wound  is 
not  uncommon.  It  is  not  easy  to  say  how  you  have 
been  hit,  and  I  have  known  men  who  have  been  shot 
through  the  body  and  have  been  quite  unable  to 
say  whether  the  bullet  went  in  at  the  front  or  the 
back. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BRITISH    GUNNERS    AS    CAVE-DWELLERS 

[Sir  John  French  has  repeatedly  praised  the  splendid  work 
of  the  Royal  Artillery  during  the  war  and  glowing  tributes  to 
the  courage  and  resourcefulness  of  British  gunners  have  been 
paid  by  the  other  branches  of  the  Army.  Many  a  critical 
battle  has  been  turned  into  a  success  by  the  artillery,  some  of 
the  batteries  of  which  have  particularly  distinguished  them- 
selves. Amongst  them  is  the  134th,  of  whose  officers  and  men 
no  fewer  than  five  were  mentioned  in  Sir  John  French's  list, 
published  on  February  18th,  of  names  of  those  whom  he  recom- 
mended for  gallant  and  distinguished  conduct  in  the  field. 
This  story  of  some  of  the  work  of  our  gunners  is  told  by  Corporal 
Ernest  Henry  Bean,  of  the  134th  Field  Battery,  who  was 
severely  wounded  and  invalided  home.] 

You  cannot  exaggerate  anything  in  this  war.  I  am 
of  a  cheerful  and  hopeful  disposition,  but  I  never 
thought  I  should  live  through  the  awful  business ; 
yet  here  I  am,  cheerful  still,  though  shot  through  both 
feet,  and  forced  to  hop  when  I  want  to  get  from  place 
to  place. 

I  have  had  some  strange  adventures  during  the  last 
few  months,  and  one  of  the  oddest  was  in  this  good 
old  Yarmouth.  That  was  when  the  Germans  came 
and  bombed  us.  But  I  will  tell  you  about  the  air 
raid  later.  Here  are  two  eighteen-pounder  shells, 
not  from  the  front,  but  from  practice -firing,  and  it 
was  such  shells  as  these  that  made  havoc  amongst 
the  German  troops,  especially  when  we  got  to  work 
on  big  bodies  of  them. 

213 


214     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

The  war  came  upon  us  so  suddenly  that  even  now 
it  seems  amazing  that  I  left  peaceful  England  on  a 
summer  day  and  went  straight  into  the  very  thick 
of  things.  There  was  no  waiting,  for  I  sailed  from 
Southampton  on  the  day  after  Mons  was  fought,  and 
when  we  got  into  action  it  was  at  Le  Cateau.  We 
had  had  a  short  spell  in  a  rest  camp,  then  we  had 
some  hard  marching.  Throughout  the  whole  of  one 
night  we  kept  at  it,  and  soon  after  breakfast  next 
morning  we  were  in  the  thick  of  one  of  the  most 
terrible  artillery  fights  that  has  ever  been  known. 
For  six  mortal  hours  we  were  under  an  incessant  shell- 
fire.  The  experience  itself  was  enough  to  leave  its 
mark  for  ever  on  your  mind,  but  I  shall  always  re- 
member it  because  of  what  happened  to  our  horses. 
They  were  not  used  to  this  awful  business  and  they 
stampeded,  galloping  all  over  the  place,  and  defying 
every  effort  of  the  drivers  to  control  them.  The 
horses  bolted  with  the  waggons  and  tore  madly  over 
the  country,  taking  pretty  nearly  everything  that 
came  in  their  way.  The  drivers  were  on  the  horses, 
but  they  were  powerless  to  control  the  frightened 
animals. 

The  battery  itself  was  in  action.  I  was  with  the 
teams — on  an  open  road  with  half-a-dozen  of  them, 
and  no  protection  whatever,  for  the  road  ran  between 
open  fields.  We  were  a  fine  target  for  the  Germans, 
and  they  saw  it  and  began  to  shell  us  hell  for  leather. 
The  fire  was  deadly  and  there  is  no  wonder  that  the 
horses  bolted. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  What  could  be  done  except 
make  a  dash  for  shelter  ?  I  did  my  level  best  to  get 
out  of  the  open  and  seek  shelter.  But  shelter  seemed 
far  away,  there  was  nothing  near  at  hand,  but  in 


BRITISH  GUNNERS  AS  CAVE-DWELLERS    215 

the  distance  I  saw  something  that  seemed  hopeful, 
so  I  galloped  towards  it  with  my  teams.  We  went 
furiously  along,  and  as  I  got  nearer  to  the  object  I 
could  make  out  that  it  was  a  long  brick  wall  which 
separated  an  orchard  from  the  road. 

For  about  a  mile,  under  a  constant  and  furious  fire, 
I  dashed  on ;  then  I  got  to  the  wall,  and  instantly  I 
drew  in  as  many  of  the  bolting  horses  as  I  could  lay 
hands  on.  It  all  happened  so  swiftly  that  it  is  not 
easy  to  tell  how  this  was  done;  but  I  know  that  I 
was  safely  mounted  on  my  own  horse  when  the 
stampede  began,  and  that  I  dashed  at  the  bolting 
animals  and  grabbed  as  many  as  I  could,  and  that 
I  hurried  them  to  the  shelter  of  the  wall,  and  I  fancy 
that  they  were  just  about  as  glad  of  the  protection 
as  I  was.  The  gallop  was  a  mad  affair,  and  very  likely 
it  would  never  have  ended  as  it  did  if  all  the  shells 
the  Germans  fired  had  burst ;  but  some  of  them  did 
not  explode,  though  I  did  not  know  of  this  till  later, 
when  I  picked  some  of  them  up  from  the  ground. 

While  I  was  in  the  thick  of  this  exciting  business 
Farrier-Sergeant  Scott  was  rushing  about  and  secur- 
ing other  runaway  teams,  and  he  did  so  well  and  his 
work  was  considered  so  brilliant  and  important  that 
the  French  gave  him  the  decoration  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour. 

For  the  best  part  of  an  hour  I  was  under  cover  of 
the  wall,  doing  the  best  I  could  with  the  horses,  and 
it  was  a  funny  old  job  to  keep  them  anything  like 
quiet  with  such  a  heavy  fire  going  on  all  the  time; 
yet  so  complete  was  the  protection  that  practically 
no  damage  was  done,  the  worst  that  occurred  being 
the  shattering  of  a  pair  of  wheels  by  a  bursting  shell. 

By  the  end  of  the  hour  both  myself  and  the  horses 


216    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

were  pretty  well  settling  down;  then  things  calmed 
down  a  bit.  The  Germans  appeared  to  be  tired  of 
pounding  at  us,  and  perhaps  they  thought  that  they 
had  blown  us  to  pieces.  At  any  rate  we  began  to  get 
out  of  it,  and  we  had  no  sooner  started  to  do  that  than 
the  firing  instantly  re-opened. 

There  was  a  village  not  far  away  and  we  made  a 
dash  for  it ;  but  we  were  forced  to  clear  out,  for  the 
enemy's  artillery  set  the  little  place  on  fire  and  all 
the  stacks  and  buildings  were  in  flames.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  confusion  and  mixing  up  of  all  sorts  of 
troops.  I  had  lost  touch  with  my  own  lot  and  was 
ordered  by  a  captain  to  join  another  column  for  the 
night,  and  this  I  did.  I  joined  the  2nd  Brigade 
Ammunition  Column  and  next  day  I  was  with  my  own 
battery  again,  thankful  to  have  got  safely  through 
a  very  dangerous  business. 

Next  day  we  picked  up  another  position,  and  had 
no  sooner  done  that  than  information  came  that 
immense  bodies  of  Germans  were  on  the  move  in  our 
direction.  The  outlook  was  serious,  because  we  were 
in  the  open  and  there  was  nothing  for  it  except  a  fight 
to  the  death.  The  Germans  were  expected  along  a 
certain  road  and  we  made  ready  to  fire  at  what  is 
practically  point-blank  range,  using  Fuses  0  and  2, 
so  that  at  500  and  1000  yards  the  masses  of  the 
enemy  would  have  had  the  shells  bursting  amongst 
them. 

We  had  been  through  some  tough  times ;  but  not 
in  any  situation  which  was  as  unpromising  as  this. 
We  knew  that  we  could  make  a  long  stand,  and  mow 
down  the  Germans  as  they  swept  along  the  open 
country;  but  we  knew  also  that  in  the  end  vastly 
superior  forces  must  tell  against  us ;  but  we  held 


BRITISH  GUNNERS  AS  CAVE-DWELLERS    217 

our  ground  and  the  stern  order  went  round,  "  Each 
take  charge  of  your  own  gun — and  God  help  us  !  " 

How  long  that  awful  strain  lasted  I  cannot  tell. 
It  could  not  have  been  long,  but  it  seemed  an  eternity. 
While  it  lasted  the  strain  was  almost  unendurable; 
then  it  suddenly  snapped,  an  immense  relief  came  over 
us  and  even  the  bravest  and  most  careless  amongst 
us  breathed  more  freely  when  we  knew  that  the  pros- 
pect of  almost  sure  annihilation  had  passed,  for  the 
German  hosts,  instead  of  coming  by  the  expected 
road,  had  gone  another  way. 

With  lighter  hearts  we  limbered  up,  and  day  after 
day,  night  after  night,  for  eleven  days,  we  kept  hard 
at  it,  marching  and  fighting,  and  whenever  we  got 
into  action  it  was  against  very  heavy  odds.  I  was 
with  my  own  special  chum,  Sergeant  Charlie  Harrison, 
and  often  enough,  especially  in  the  night-time,  we 
would  walk  alongside  our  horses  and  talk  as  we 
dragged  ourselves  along — talk  about  anything  that 
came  into  our  minds,  and  all  for  the  sake  of  keeping 
awake  and  not  falling  down  exhausted  on  the  road; 
yet  in  spite  of  everything  we  could  do  we  would  fall 
asleep.  Sometimes  we  would  continue  walking  while 
practically  asleep — we  wanted  to  save  our  horses  as 
much  as  we  could — and  more  than  once,  when  I  was 
riding,  I  went  to  sleep  and  fell  out  of  the  saddle. 
There  was  one  good  thing,  however,  about  the  shock — 
it  acted  as  a  very  fine  wakener-up.  As  for  sleeping, 
when  we  got  the  chance  of  it,  we  could  do  that  any- 
where— in  ploughed  fields,  deep  in  mud  and  water, 
and  on  the  road  itself. 

All  sorts  of  strange  and  unexpected  things  happened. 
While  I  was  with  the  Ammunition  Column  the 
Engineers  were  putting  all  their  smartness  and  skill 


218     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF   THE   WAR 

into  the  building  of  a  pontoon,  and  the  Germans  were 
specially  favouring  them  with  "  Coal  Boxes."  This 
was  my  introduction  to  these  big  brutes  of  shells,  and 
it  was  not  pleasant,  especially  as  the  column  was  not 
more  than  twenty-five  yards  from  the  spot  where  they 
were  exploding  with  a  terrific  roar. 

I  was  standing  by  my  horse,  feeling  none  too  com- 
fortable, when  a  big  shell  burst  and  made  awful  havoc 
near  me.  A  piece  of  it  came  and  struck  me.  I 
thought  I  was  done  for,  then  I  looked  around  at  my- 
self, and  found  that  the  two  bottom  buttons  of  my 
greatcoat  had  been  torn  away,  but  that  no  further 
damage  had  been  done.  I  was  glad  to  have  got  off 
so  easily,  and  just  as  pleased  to  find  that  the  horses 
had  escaped. 

At  this  time  we  were  wanting  food  pretty  badly, 
so  that  every  ration  became  precious.  We  were 
bivouacked  when  a  file  of  infantrymen  brought  in 
a  German  prisoner.  Of  course  we  gave  him  a  share 
of  pretty  well  everything  there  was  going,  hot  tea, 
bread,  biscuits  and  bully  beef,  and  he  did  himself 
well.  The  prisoner  was  not  exactly  the  sort  to  arouse 
compassion,  for  he  looked  well  fed  and  was  dressed 
in  a  very  smart  uniform.  An  officer  came  up,  saw 
the  captive,  and  said,  "  Do  you  think  this  fellow  looks 
as  if  he  wanted  anything?"  Truth  to  tell,  the 
fellow  didn't,  and  as  we  did  want  things  badly,  he 
was  sent  somewhere  else,  and  we  were  not  sorry  to 
see  him  go. 

After  being  kept  so  constantly  on  the  rack,  we  had 
a  welcome  and  remarkable  change — we  became  cave- 
dwellers.  We  spent  five  days  and  nights  in  some  of 
the  famous  caves  at  Soissons,  and  had  a  thoroughly 
comfortable  and  happy  time.  We  had  a  fine  chance 


BRITISH  GUNNERS  AS  CAVE-DWELLERS     219 

of  resting  and  enjoying  ourselves,  and  we  made  the 
most  of  it. 

Originally  these  caves  were  occupied  by  very  primi- 
tive people;  lately  they  were  used  as  a  French 
hospital,  and  the  French  made  all  sorts  of  interesting 
pictures  and  carvings  on  the  outsides,  by  way  of 
decoration,  then  the  British  took  them  over  as  billets. 
By  nature  the  caverns  were  queer  gloomy  places,  but 
a  good  deal  had  been  done  to  make  them  habitable, 
such  as  fitting  in  doors  and  windows.  There  had 
been  a  lot  of  fighting  near  the  caves,  with  the  result 
that  there  were  graves  at  the  very  entrances  of  some 
of  these  uncommon  billets ;  but  this  had  no  effect  on 
our  spirits.  We  did  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  de- 
pressed. What  is  the  use  of  that  in  wartime  ?  The 
British  soldier  has  the  happy  knack  of  making  himself 
at  home  in  all  kinds  of  odd  places,  and  so  we  did  in 
our  billets  in  the  rocks  and  hillside.  We  called  one 
of  our  caves  the  "  Cave  Theatre  Royal,"  and  another 
the  "  Cave  Cinema,"  and  many  a  cheerful  performance 
and  fine  sing-song  we  had.  The  only  light  we  had 
came  from  candles,  but  you  can  sing  just  as  well  by 
candle-light  as  you  can  by  big  electric  lamps,  and  I 
don't  suppose  that  ever  since  the  caves  were  occupied 
they  rang  with  more  cheerful  sounds  than  were  heard 
when  the  British  soldiers  were  joining  in  a  chorus  of 
the  latest  popular  song  from  home. 

Another  great  advantage  of  the  caverns  was  that 
they  gave  splendid  cover  to  our  guns,  and  protection 
to  ourselves,  so  that  these  five  days  and  nights  gave 
us  a  real  rest  and  complete  change,  and  we  were  very 
sorry  when  we  left  them  and  resumed  the  work  of 
incessant  fighting  and  marching.  We  were  constantly 
at  the  guns,  and  by  way  of  showing  what  a  fearful 


220     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF   THE   WAR 

business  the  artillery  duels  became  at  times,  I  may 
tell  you  that  from  a  single  battery  alone — that  is,  half- 
a-dozen  guns — in  one  day  and  night  we  fired  more 
than  4000  rounds. 

It  was  a  vast  change  from  the  comfort  and  safety 
of  the  caverns,  where  never  a  German  shell  reached  us, 
to  the  open  again,  but  we  got  our  quiet  times  and  little 
recreations  still,  and  one  of  these  intervals  we  devoted 
to  football.  We  were  at  Messines,  and  so  was  a 
howitzer  battery,  and  as  we  happened  to  be  rather 
slack,  we  got  up  a  match.  I  am  keen  on  football, 
and  things  were  going  splendidly.  I  had  scored  two 
goals  and  we  were  leading  3-1,  when  the  game  came 
to  a  very  sudden  stop,  for  some  German  airmen  had 
seen  us  running  about  and  had  swooped  down  towards 
us,  with  the  result  that  the  howitzer  chaps  were  rushed 
into  action  and  we  followed  without  any  loss  of  time. 
We  took  it  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  to  let  the  foot- 
ball go,  and  pound  away  at  the  Germans,  who  had  so 
suddenly  appeared.  It  was  getting  rather  late,  so 
we  gave  the  enemy  about  fifty  rounds  by  way  of  saying 
good-night.  We  always  made  a  point  of  being  civil 
in  this  direction ;  but  our  usual  dose  for  good-night 
was  about  fifteen  rounds. 

Talking  of  football  recalls  sad  memories.  On 
Boxing  Day,  1913,  when  I  and  an  old  chum  were  home 
on  leave,  I  played  in  a  football  match,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  game  a  photograph  was  taken  of  the  team. 
On  last  Boxing  Day,  if  the  roll  of  the  team  had  been 
called,  there  would  have  been  no  answer  in  several 
cases — for  death  and  wounds  have  claimed  some  of 
the  eleven.  Little  did  we  think  when  we  were  being 
grouped  for  the  picture  that  it  was  the  last  muster 
for  us  as  a  team. 


BRITISH  GUNNERS  AS  CAVE-DWELLERS    221 

We  had  got  through  the  tail  end  of  summer  and 
were  well  into  autumn,  and  soon  the  gloom  of 
November  was  upon  us,  then  came  my  change  of  luck 
and  I  was  knocked  out.  It  was  November  2,  and 
almost  as  soon  as  it  was  daylight  we  were  in  the  thick 
of  an  uncommonly  furious  artillery  duel,  one  of  the 
very  worst  I  have  seen.  The  Germans  seemed  to  be 
making  a  special  effort  that  morning.  They  had  got 
our  position  pretty  accurately,  and  they  fired  so 
quickly  and  had  the  range  so  well  that  we  were  in  a 
real  hell  of  bursting  shrapnel,  indeed,  the  fragments 
were  so  numerous  that  it  is  little  short  of  a  miracle 
that  we  were  not  wiped  out. 

We  had  not  been  long  in  action  when  a  shell  burst 
on  the  limber-pole,  smashed  it  in  halves,  penetrated 
through  the  wheel,  blew  the  spokes  of  the  wheel  away 
and  shot  me  some  distance  into  the  air.  For  a  little 
while  I  had  no  clear  idea  of  what  had  happened,  then 
I  found  that  three  of  us  had  been  wounded.  My 
right  boot  had  been  blown  to  shreds,  and  there  was 
a  hole  right  through  the  left  boot.  So  much  I  saw  at 
once — a  mess  of  blood  and  earth  and  leather ;  but  of 
the  extent  of  my  wounds  I  knew  very  little,  nor  did 
I  trouble  much  about  them  at  the  time.  The  first 
thing  I  did  was  to  get  into  the  main  pit  by  the  side  of 
the  gun,  the  captain  and  one  or  two  chums  helping 
me,  and  there,  though  the  pain  of  my  wounds  was 
terrible,  I  laughed  and  chatted  as  best  I  could,  and  I 
saw  how  the  battery  kept  at  it  against  big  odds. 

Number  1,  Sergeant  Barker,  who  was  in  charge  of 
the  gun,  had  been  struck  by  a  piece  of  shrapnel, 
which  had  fractured  his  leg;  but  though  that  was 
quite  enough  to  knock  him  out  of  time,  he  never 
flinched  or  faltered.  He  held  on  to  his  gun,  and  went 


222     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

on  fighting  pretty  much  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
Number  2,  Gunner  Weedon,  had  been  wounded 
through  the  thigh,  a  bad  injury  about  three  inches 
long  being  caused ;  but  he,  too,  held  gamely  on. 

I  tried  to  crawl  out  of  the  pit ;  but  could  not  do  so, 
and  I  passed  the  time  by  trying  to  cheer  my  chums, 
just  as  they  did  their  best  to  help  me  to  keep  my  own 
spirits  up. 

The  sergeant  found  time  occasionally  to  turn  round 
and  ask  how  I  was  getting  on. 

"  It's  all  right,  old  Bean,"  he  shouted  cheerily. 
"  Keep  quiet.  We  can  manage  without  you."  And 
he  went  on  firing,  while  the  officers  continued  to  give 
orders  and  encourage  the  men. 

I  was  getting  very  thirsty  and  craved  for  a  drink; 
but  I  saw  no  prospect  of  getting  either  water  or  any- 
thing else  at  such  a  time. 

The  sergeant  noticed  my  distress  and  gave  me  the 
sweetest  drink  I  ever  tasted,  and  that  was  a  draught 
from  his  own  canteen.  He  managed  to  stop  firing 
for  a  few  seconds  while  he  did  this — just  long  enough 
to  sling  his  canteen  round,  let  me  take  a  pull,  and 
sling  it  back.  I  learned  afterwards  that  throughout 
the  whole  of  that  day,  in  that  inferno  of  firing  and 
bursting  shells,  the  sergeant  stuck  to  his  gun  and  kept 
it  at.  For  his  courage  and  tenacity  he  has  been 
awarded  the  Distinguished  Conduct  Medal,  and  no 
man  has  ever  more  fully  deserved  it. 

I  was  lying  in  the  gun  pit  for  about  an  hour,  then 
a  doctor  came  and  my  wounds  were  dressed,  but  there 
was  no  chance  of  getting  away  for  the  time  being,  so 
I  had  to  wait  till  the  firing  ceased.  At  last  a  stretcher 
was  brought,  and  I  was  carried  into  a  barn  which  was 
at  the  rear  of  our  battery.  One  of  the  bearers  was 


[To  lace  p.  222. 
WE   WERE    IN   A   REAL   HELL    OF    BURSTING    SHRAPNEL  "    (p.   221). 


BRITISH  GUNNERS  AS  CAVE-DWELLERS     223 

Sergeant  E.  Leet,  the  right-back  in  our  battery  team. 
He  left  the  fight  to  bear  a  hand  with  me,  and  as  soon 
as  I  was  safely  in  the  barn  he  returned  to  his  post. 
He  had  no  sooner  done  that  than  he  too  was  struck 
down  by  a  wound  in  the  ankle  and  had  to  be  invalided 
home. 

When  I  was  carried  away  the  major  and  the  ser- 
geant-major said  good-bye,  and  I  rather  think  they 
expected  that  that  was  the  last  they  would  ever  see 
of  me.  I  certainly  felt  bad,  and  I  daresay  I  looked 
it;  but  I  was  quite  cheerful.  I  particularly  felt  it 
when  I  passed  my  chum,  Charlie  Harrison,  because 
for  more  than  six  years  we  had  kept  together  without 
a  break.  We  shouted  good-bye  as  we  passed,  and  I 
did  not  know  whether  I  should  ever  see  him  again. 

When  I  reached  the  barn  I  wanted  to  get  back  to 
the  battery,  to  be  at  my  own  gun  again,  to  bear  a  hand 
once  more  in  the  fighting  that  was  still  going  on  and 
seemed  as  if  it  would  never  stop ;  but  when  I  tried  to 
stand  up  I  collapsed,  through  pain  and  loss  of  blood. 
Soon  after  this  I  heard  that  Charlie  Harrison  too  had 
been  wounded.  He  was  struck  on  the  neck  just  after 
I  was  carried  away  from  the  gun  pit  and  had  shouted 
good-bye  to  him ;  but  he  bandaged  himself  and  refused 
to  leave  the  battery. 

What  became  of  him  ?  Why,  he  got  home  from  the 
front  a  day  or  two  ago,  and  you've  just  seen  him. 
There  he  is.  And  let  me  show  you  this  shattered 
foot,  to  let  you  see  how  it  is  that  I'm  forced  to  hop 
when  I  want  to  get  about. 

And  now  to  get  back  to  the  air  raid  on  the  East 
Coast,  which  to  me  and  other  soldiers  from  the  front 
who  saw  it,  was  an  extraordinary  experience,  though 
I  fancy  that  we  took  it  more  or  less  as  a  matter  of 


224    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

course,  because  you  so  soon  get  used  to  that  kind 
of  thing. 

I  had  scarcely  settled  down  at  home  when  one  night 
there  was  a  fearful  commotion,  caused  by  dull  ex- 
plosions. I  was  a  bit  taken  aback,  for  I  knew  what 
the  sounds  meant,  and  thought  that  I  had  done  with 
the  Germans  and  righting  for  a  spell  at  any  rate. 

As  soon  as  the  sound  of  the  explosions  was  heard, 
people  rushed  into  the  streets — the  most  dangerous 
thing  they  could  do — to  see  what  it  all  meant,  and 
there  were  cries  that  the  Germans  had  come. 

So  they  had.  They  had  come  in  a  gas-bag  or  two, 
and  were  dropping  bombs  on  the  good  old  town, 
which  was  lighted  as  usual,  though  that  was  soon 
altered. 

I  hopped  into  the  street — hopping  is  the  only  thing 
I  can  do  at  present — and  there  I  found  that  there  was 
intense  excitement  and  that  women  in  particular  were 
badly  scared.  But  really  the  thing  did  not  upset  me 
at  all — it  was  mere  child's  play  compared  with  what 
I  had  been  through,  so  I  made  myself  useful,  and 
hopped  away  and  bought  some  brandy,  which  suited 
some  of  the  scared  people  very  well — so  well  that 
there  wasn't  a  drop  left  for  myself. 

The  raid  was  soon  over,  and  so  was  the  scare,  and 
I  hopped  back  to  the  house.  There  have  been  several 
frantic  alarms  since  then,  and  more  than  once  I  have 
been  shaken  out  of  my  sleep  and  told  that  the  Ger- 
mans have  come  again ;  but  all  I  have  said  has  been 
that  it  will  take  something  far  worse  than  a  German 
gas-bag  raid  to  make  me  turn  out  of  bed  in  the  middle 
of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WITH   THE    "  FIGHTING   FIFTH" 

[One  of  the  battalions  which  composed  the  5th  Division 
of  the  British  Expeditionary  Force  was  the  1st  East  Surrey 
Regiment.  It  was  on  the  5th  Division  that  so  much  of  the 
heavy  fighting  fell  on  the  way  to  the  Aisne,  and  in  that  heavy 
fighting  the  East  Surreys  suffered  very  severely.  This  story 
is  told  by  Private  W.  G.  Long,  who  rejoined  his  regiment  from 
the  Reserve.  He  has  been  wounded  by  shrapnel,  and  has 
permanently  lost  the  use  of  his  right  arm.] 

WHEN  I  went  out  with  my  old  battalion,  the  Young 
Buffs,  we  were  more  than  1,300  strong.  When  I 
came  back,  after  six  weeks'  fighting,  we  had  lost 
more  than  half  that  number.  This  simple  fact  will 
show  you  what  the  East  Surreys  have  done  during  the 
war,  as  part  of  the  famous  "  Fighting  Fifth"  which 
has  been  so  greatly  praised  by  Sir  John  French. 

I  had  got  up  to  start  my  day's  work  after  the  August 
Bank  Holiday ;  but  that  day's  work  was  never  done, 
for  the  postman  brought  the  mobilisation  papers,  and 
off  I  went  to  Kingston,  after  kissing  my  wife  and  baby 
good-bye.  Many  a  fine  fellow  who  marched  off  with 
me  is  sleeping  in  or  near  a  little  forest  which  we  called 
"  Shrapnel  Wood."  That  was  near  Missy,  where  we 
crossed  the  Aisne  on  rafts. 

We  lost  our  first  man  soon  after  we  landed  in  France, 
and  before  we  met  the  Germans.  That  was  at  Land- 
recies,  where  we  went  into  French  barracks,  and  were 

Q  225 


226     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

told  off  into  rooms  which  we  called  rabbit-hutches, 
because  they  were  so  small — no  bigger  than  a  little 
kitchen  at  home.  We  were  crowded  into  these,  and 
the  only  bed  we  had  was  a  bit  of  straw  on  the  floor. 
The  nights  were  bitterly  cold,  but  the  days  were  hot 
enough  to  melt  us ;  so  we  had  a  bathing  parade,  and 
had  a  fine  old  time  in  the  canal  till  one  of  our  men 
was  missed. 

I  looked  around,  and  saw  that  one  of  our  fellows 
was  having  artificial  respiration  tried  on  him.  He 
came  round,  and  then  he  told  us  that  another  man 
had  gone  under  the  water.  Then  began  a  really  first- 
class  diving  display,  many  of  our  chaps  plunging  into 
the  canal  to  try  to  find  the  missing  soldier. 

At  last  one  of  the  divers  rose  and  shouted,  "  I've 
got  him  !  "  And,  sure  enough,  he  had  brought  a  poor 
chap  to  the  surface.  Lots  of  strong  arms  were  stretched 
out,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  rescued  man  was  got 
on  to  the  bank,  and  every  effort  was  made  to  bring 
him  back  to  life.  But  nothing  could  be  done.  The 
man  was  drowned,  and  we  buried  him.  This  little 
tragedy  threw  quite  a  gloom  over  us  till  we  moved 
away. 

I  am  going  to  tell  of  a  few  of  the  things  that  hap- 
pened and  affected  me  personally.  They  took  place 
mostly  when  we  were  retiring,  and  some  of  them 
occurred  in  the  early  days,  when  we  were  forging 
along  in  fearfully  bad  weather.  We  were  soaked  to 
the  skin,  and  at  night  did  our  best  to  get  some  sort 
of  shelter  by  building  up  the  stacks  of  corn  that  had 
been  cut  for  drying,  but  it  was  no  use.  The  rain 
came  through  so  heavily  that  we  gave  the  task  up, 
and  waited  for  daylight  again.  When  the  day  came 
it  brought  another  rain  of  shells  and  bullets  with  it. 


WITH  THE   'FIGHTING   FIFTH'        227 

The  place  got  too  warm  for  us,  so  we  had  to  leave  and 
retire  again.  We  went  on,  getting  as  much  shelter 
as  we  could ;  and  then  we  had  to  halt,  and  here  the 
sorry  discovery  was  made  that  we  had  not  a  round 
of  ammunition  left.  At  this  time  there  were  advanc- 
ing towards  us  some  men  in  khaki,  and  our  sergeant, 
thinking  they  were  our  own  men,  told  us  not  to 
fire  at  them. 

The  order  was  not  necessary,  seeing  that  we  had 
nothing  to  fire  with.  As  soon  as  these  men  got  level 
with  us  on  our  flank  they  opened  fire,  and  then  we 
knew  that  they  were  Germans,  who  had  stripped 
some  of  our  men,  or  had  picked  up  British  caps  and 
greatcoats  which  had  been  thrown  aside. 

In  this  desperate  position  a  man  who  belonged  to 
the  Cornwall  Light  Infantry  was  shot  just  below  the 
left  ear.  He  was  knocked  down,  but  got  up,  and  kept 
saying,  "  Help  me  !  Help  me  !  " 

I  shouted  to  him  to  lie  down  and  keep  under  cover, 
but  he  took  no  notice,  and  kept  on  calling  for  help. 
He  came  up  to  me,  and  when  he  was  near  enough  I 
pulled  him  down  and  forced  him  to  lie  on  the  ground. 
All  this  time  there  was  a  very  heavy  fire.  We  were 
getting  shots  from  the  front  and  on  our  flanks,  and 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  get  away  as  best  we 
could. 

I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  leaving  this  Corn- 
wall man  where  he  was,  so  I  took  him  up  and  began 
to  carry  him,  but  it  wras  very  slow  going.  It  was 
all  uphill,  the  ground  was  sodden  with  rain,  and  I  had 
to  force  a  way  through  a  field  of  turnips,  which  were 
growing  as  high  as  my  knees.  It  was  bad  enough  to 
make  one's  own  way  through  such  a  tangle  as  that; 
but  I  am  young  and  strong,  and  I  managed  to  make 


228    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE  WAR 

progress,  although  I  was  hit  five  different  times — not 
hurt,  but  struck,  a  shot,  for  instance,  hitting  my  cap, 
another  my  water-bottle,  and  another  the  sleeve  of 
my  coat. 

After  going  a  long  distance,  as  it  seemed,  and  feeling 
utterly  exhausted,  I  put  my  man  down  under  what 
I  thought  was  safe  shelter.  I  wanted  to  give  him  a 
drink,  but  I  could  not  do  so,  as  the  shot-hole  in  my 
water-bottle  had  let  the  water  run  to  waste. 

At  last  we  reached  a  roadway,  where  we  saw 
some  more  of  our  men,  who  had  got  there  before  us, 
and  had  commandeered  a  horseless  cart  and  filled  it 
with  wounded  men. 

I  got  the  wounded  man  into  the  cart,  and  then  off 
we  all  went.  It  was  as  much  as  we  could  manage  to 
get  the  cart  along,  for  it  was  such  a  great  big  thing ; 
but  we  worked  it  willingly,  the  officers  taking  their 
turn  in  the  shafts. 

We  dragged  the  cart  along  the  heavy  roads,  but 
it  was  such  hard  going  that  we  saw  that  we  should 
be  forced  to  get  a  horse  from  somewhere;  so  we 
looked  around  at  the  first  farm  we  came  to — and  a 
sorry  place  it  was,  with  everything  in  confusion,  and 
the  animals  about  suffering  terribly  and  starving— 
and  there  we  found  a  horse  of  the  largest  size. 

With  great  difficulty  we  got  together  bits  of  harness, 
string  and  rope,  and  tied  the  horse  in  the  shafts  with 
the  ropes  for  traces,  and  when  we  had  finished  we  did 
not  know  whether  we  had  harnessed  the  horse  or 
tied  the  cart  on  to  it.  Anyway,  we  got  along  very 
well  after  that. 

The  cart  had  amongst  its  wounded  an  infantry  officer 
who  had  been  saved  by  one  of  our  fellows,  though  the 
officer  belonged  to  another  regiment.  He  had  got 


WITH  THE   'FIGHTING  FIFTH'        229 

entangled  in  some  barbed  wire,  and,  as  he  had  been 
wounded  in  the  leg,  he  could  not  move  either  one  way 
or  the  other.  He  was  absolutely  helpless,  and  under 
a  heavy  fire. 

Our  fellow  went  out  and  got  to  the  helpless  officer, 
and,  by  sticking  at  it  and  doing  all  he  could,  being 
himself  pretty  badly  cut  in  the  operation,  he  freed  the 
officer  from  the  entanglement,  and  carried  him  safely 
up  to  the  cart.  We  were  getting  on  very  nicely  with 
our  little  contrivance  when  we  ran  into  the  2nd  Dra- 
goons, but  we  soon  left  them  behind  us,  and  found 
ourselves  amongst  some  of  our  own  transport.  We 
joined  up  with  it,  adding  another  and  a  very 
strange  waggon  to  the  column,  and  on  we  went  until 
we  reached  a  large  town  and  halted. 

During  the  whole  of  this  time  I  had  been  carrying 
a  canteen  which  had  belonged  to  a  Frenchman.  It 
was  quite  a  big  canteen,  and  I  kept  it  filled  with  apples, 
of  which  we  got  an  enormous  number,  and  on  which 
at  times  we  had  practically  to  live  for  two  or  three 
days  together. 

We  had  reached  a  stage  of  fighting  when  we  had  to 
make  continuous  short  rushes  against  the  Germans, 
under  hails  of  shrapnel.  In  making  these  rushes  it 
often  happened  that  we  sheltered  behind  a  little  sort 
of  earthwork  which  we  threw  up.  We  just  made  a  bit 
of  head  cover  and  lay  behind  that;  but  sometimes 
this  head  cover  could  not  be  made,  and  that  was 
where  I  scored  with  my  Frenchman's  canteen. 

During  one  of  our  rushes  shrapnel  burst  right  over 
my  head,  and  one  fellow  said  to  me,  "  I  wouldn't 
carry  that  thing,  George,  if  I  were  you."  But,  having 
kept  it  for  so  long,  I  was  not  going  to  throw  it  away. 

Away  we  went.     I   was  carrying  the  canteen   in 


230     SOLDIERS5   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

my  left  hand,  and  my  rifle  in  the  right ;  but  I  changed 
them  over,  and  I  had  no  sooner  done  that  than  crash 
came  a  shell,  and,  in  bursting,  a  fragment  hit  the 
canteen,  and  took  a  great  piece  out  of  it.  I  should 
have  been  badly  wounded  myself,  but  I  had  filled 
the  canteen  with  earth,  and  so  it  had  protected  me 
and  acted  as  a  first-rate  cover.  The  man  who  was 
on  my  right  received  a  nasty  wound. 

After  this  we  had  to  advance  over  open  country, 
where  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  blade  of  grass  for 
cover.  We  went  on  till  we  reached  a  ditch,  which 
was  full  of  water.  Some  of  us  had  to  wade  through 
it,  but  others,  by  going  farther  back,  were  able  to 
cross  a  tiny  footbridge — one  of  those  narrow  planks 
which  only  allow  one  man  at  a  time  to  cross.  The 
Germans  had  a  machine-gun  trained  at  this  little  bridge 
so  we  lost  no  time  in  getting  off  it.  It  was  here  that 
our  captain  was  mortally  wounded  by  a  shot,  and  we 
had  other  casualties  in  crossing  the  bridge. 

From  this  point  we  had  to  climb  to  the  top  of  a  hill, 
which  was  so  steep  that  we  had  to  dig  our  fixed  bayo- 
nets into  the  ground  to  help  us  up.  There  was  a 
wood  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  there  we  took 
shelter ;  but  we  had  no  sooner  got  amongst  the  trees 
than  the  shrapnel  was  on  us  again,  causing  many 
casualties. 

There  were  many  funny  incidents  at  this  place,  and 
one  I  particularly  remember  was  that  there  were  three 
of  us  in  a  sort  of  heap,  when  a  piece  of  shell  dropped 
just  alongside.  There  was  not  any  great  force  in  it, 
because  before  falling  the  piece  had  struck  a  tree; 
but,  as  it  dropped,  fellows  started  turning  up  the 
collars  of  their  coats,  and  rolling  themselves  into 
balls — just  as  if  things  of  that  sort  could  make  any 


WITH  THE   'FIGHTING   FIFTH'        231 

difference  to  a  bursting  shell ;  but  it  is  amusing  to  see 
what  men  will  do  at  such  a  time  as  that. 

From  this  wood  we  got  into  what  seemed  a  wide 
roadway  between  two  other  woods,  and  here  we 
were  under  a  never-ending  rain  of  bullets,  which  hit 
the  trees,  sending  splinters  all  over  us,  cutting 
branches  off  and  ploughing  up  the  ground  on  every 
side.  One  of  our  officers  said,  "  Keep  your  heads 
down,  lads,"  and  he  had  scarcely  got  the  words  out 
of  his  mouth  when  he  was  shot  in  the  body  and  killed, 
and  we  had  to  leave  him  where  he  fell. 

So  heavy  and  continuous  was  the  fire  that  we 
could  not  get  on  between  these  two  woods,  and  we 
had  to  try  another  way;  so  we  started  to  go 
through  a  vineyard,  but  we  were  forced  to  lie  down. 
We  sheltered  as  best  we  could  amongst  the  vines,  with 
bullets  coming  and  actually  cutting  off  bunches  of 
grapes.  Like  good  British  soldiers,  we  made  the 
best  of  the  business,  for  we  were  both  hungry  and 
thirsty,  and  we  devoured  a  good  many  of  the  bunches 
that  were  knocked  off  by  the  German  bullets. 

After  this  we  got  into  an  orchard,  but  we  did  not 
remain  there  long,  as  the  place  was  later  on  blown  to 
smithereens.  We  hung  on  to  the  orchard  till  it  was 
dark,  then  we  advanced  farther  into  the  wood,  and 
again  got  through  into  the  open,  and  lay  down  to  try 
and  get  some  sleep ;  but  that  was  almost  impossible, 
because  it  was  raining  and  perishingly  cold,  and  we 
had  nothing  at  all  for  cover.  Then,  in  whispers,  we 
were  ordered  to  get  out  as  silently  as  we  possibly 
could. 

At  first  I  could  not  understand  the  meaning  of  this 
secrecy,  but  it  soon  became  known  that  we  had  been 
actually  sleeping  amongst  the  enemy,  though  we  were 


232     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

not  aware  of  this  until  we  were  again  on  the  move. 
We  crept  about  like  a  lot  of  mice,  till  we  reached  a 
village,  where  we  were  to  get  some  breakfast. 

We  were  settling  down,  and  making  ourselves 
comfortable  under  a  wall  which  gave  us  some  cover. 
There  were  some  men  from  another  regiment  with  us, 
and  we  thought  we  were  going  to  have  a  good  time, 
for  we  had  got  hold  of  some  biscuits  and  jam.  Then 
over  the  wall  came  a  shell,  which  exploded  and 
wounded  about  seven  men  from  the  other  regiment. 
We  did  not  stop  for  any  more  breakfast,  and 
some  of  the  men  who  had  had  nothing  to  eat  did  not 
trouble  to  get  anything,  and  they  went  without 
food  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

We  went  back  to  the  wood,  and  there  we  soon  again 
found  the  Germans,  and  plenty  of  them.  We  fired 
at  them  for  all  we  were  worth,  after  which  we  advanced 
a  little,  and  came  across  so  many  dead  that  we  had 
to  jump  over  them  every  pace  we  took.  One  thing 
which  particularly  struck  me  then,  and  which  I 
remember  now,  was  the  great  size  of  some  of  these 
German  soldiers.  At  a  little  distance  they  looked 
just  like  fallen  logs. 

After  that  our  officer  called  us  together  to  wait  for 
reinforcements.  I  thought  I  would  have  a  look  around 
me,  and  while  I  was  doing  so  I  saw  one  German  run- 
ning off  to  our  left,  about  fifteen  yards  away.  I  took 
aim  and  fired,  and  down  he  went.  I  got  down  on  my 
knee  and  unloaded  my  rifle,  when  I  saw  another 
German  going  in  the  same  direction.  I  was  just 
getting  ready  to  take  aim  again,  but  this  time  I  did 
not  fire — in  fact,  I  did  not  even  get  to  the  aim,  for  I 
felt  something  hit  my  arm. 

For  the  moment  I  thought  that  some  chap  behind 


WITH  THE   'FIGHTING  FIFTH'        238 

me  had  knocked  me  with  his  rifle  or  his  foot.  I 
turned  round,  but  there  was  no  one  behind  me,  so  I 
concluded  that  I  had  been  hit.  I  stood  up,  and  then 
my  arm  began  to  wobble,  and  the  blood  streamed  out 
of  my  sleeve.  Some  one  shouted,  "  You've  got  it, 
George."  And  I  replied  :  "  Yes ;  in  the  arm  some- 
where, but  where  I  don't  know." 

I  did  my  best  to  get  back  again,  and  then  a  fellow 
came,  and  ripped  the  sleeve  open  and  dressed  my  arm, 
and  there  was  all  my  elbow  joint  laid  open,  and  some 
of  the  bones  broken.  This  chap  wanted  to  take  me 
back  to  the  village,  but  I  said  I  was  all  right,  although 
in  a  sense  I  was  helpless.  We  started  going  back, 
and  we  got  to  the  first  house,  where  we  saw  a  poor 
old  man  and  his  daughter  who  had  been  there  all 
through  the  fighting.  The  place  was  filled  with 
wounded,  and  the  two  were  doing  their  best  for  them. 

I  asked  for  a  drink,  for  I  was  almost  dying  of  thirst, 
and  I  got  some  whisky.  While  I  was  drinking  it  a 
shell  burst  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  sent  the  mud 
and  stones  everywhere ;  so  I  shifted  my  quarters,  and 
went  along  to  a  big  house  which  had  been  a  fine  place, 
but  it  had  been  pulled  to  pieces,  and  was  now  being 
used  as  a  hospital.  The  place  itself  gave  no  protection, 
but  we  found  a  cellar  and  crowded  into  it,  and  there 
we  watched  the  Germans  blowing  the  temporary 
hospital  to  pieces. 

The  night  came,  and  it  was  terrible  to  hear  the 
poor  chaps  moaning  with  pain.  I  was  in  pain  myself 
now,  but  my  sufferings  were  a  mere  nothing  compared 
with  those  of  some  of  the  men  around  me.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  day  would  never  break,  but  at  last  it  came, 
and  by  that  time  some  of  the  poor  fellows  who  had 
been  making  such  pitiful  noises  were  no  more.  Some 


234     SOLDIERS5    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

time  after  that,  however,  I  got  away  in  a  field  ambu- 
lance. 

When  we  were  at  Le  Cateau  many  spies  were  caught. 
I  saw  several  of  them.  They  were  young  chaps, 
dressed  up  as  women  and  as  boys  and  girls,  and  it  was 
not  very  easy  to  detect  them.  One  was  disguised  as 
a  woman,  with  rather  a  good  figure.  I  saw  this 
interesting  female  when  she  was  captured  by  our 
artillery.  The  gunners  had  their  suspicions  aroused, 
with  the  result  that  they  began  to  knock  the  lady 
about  a  bit,  and  her  wig  fell  off.  Then  her  figure 
proved  to  be  not  what  it  seemed,  for  the  upper  front 
part  of  it  was  composed  of  two  carrier-pigeons  !  I 
did  not  see  the  end  of  that  batch  of  spies,  but  a  battery 
sergeant-major  afterwards  told  me  that  they  had  been 
duly  shot. 

One  of  the  most  extraordinary  things  I  saw  was  the 
conduct  of  a  man  who  had  had  his  right  arm  shot  off 
from  above  the  elbow.  I  was  standing  quite  near 
him,  and  expected  that  he  would  fall  and  be  helpless. 
Instead  of  doing  that,  he  turned  his  head  and  looked 
at  the  place  where  the  arm  should  have  been.  I  sup- 
pose he  must  have  been  knocked  off  his  balance  by 
what  had  happened.  At  any  rate,  he  gave  a  loud 
cry,  and  instantly  started  to  run  as  fast  as  I  ever  saw 
a  man  go.  Two  or  three  members  of  the  Royal  Army 
Medical  Corps  at  once  gave  chase,  with  the  object  of 
securing  him  and  attending  to  him.  The  whole  lot 
of  them  disappeared  over  some  rising  ground,  and 
what  happened  to  them  I  do  not  know. 

I  saw  many  fellows  who  had  queer  tales  to  tell  of 
what  had  happened  to  them.  One  chap,  a  rifleman, 
who  was  in  the  ship  coming  home,  was  so  nervous 
that  the  slightest  noise  made  him  almost  jump  out 


[To  face  p.  234. 


I  TOOK   HIM    UP    AND    BEGAN    TO    CARRY   HIM  "  (p.  227). 


WITH  THE   'FIGHTING   FIFTH'        235 

of  his  skin.  And  well  it  might,  for  his  nerves  had  been 
shattered.  A  shell  had  buried  itself  in  the  ground 
just  in  front  of  him  and  exploded,  blowing  him  fifteen 
feet  into  the  air,  and  landing  him  in  a  bed  of  mud. 
He  was  so  completely  stunned  that  he  lay  there  for 
about  eight  hours,  scarcely  moving,  though  he  was 
not  even  scratched.  He  came  round  all  right,  but 
was  a  nervous  wrreck,  and  had  to  be  invalided. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    VICTORY   OF   THE    MARNE 

[One  of  the  most  moving  statements  in  the  earlier  official 
reports  dealing  with  the  war  was  that  about  the  fighting  at 
Mons  and  elsewhere,  which  cost  us  6000  men,  and  no  paragraph 
was  more  stirring  than  that  relating  to  Landrecies,  a  quiet  little 
French  town  on  the  Sambre.  "  In  Landrecies  alone,"  the 
report  said,  "  a  German  infantry  brigade  advanced  in  the  closest 
order  into  the  narrow  street,  which  they  completely  filled. 
Our  machine-guns  were  brought  to  bear  on  this  target  from 
the  end  of  the  town.  The  head  of  the  column  was  swept  away, 
a  frightful  panic  ensued,  and  it  is  estimated  that  no  fewer  than 
800  to  900  dead  and  wounded  Germans  were  lying  in  this  street 
alone."  The  story  of  that  furious  combat  and  the  subsequent 
operations  on  the  Marne  is  told  by  Corporal  G.  Gilliam,  of  the 
Coldstream  Guards.  On  September  6,  in  conjunction  with 
the  French,  the  British  assumed  the  offensive,  and,  after  a  four 
days'  desperate  struggle,  which  is  known  as  the  Battle  of  the 
Marne,  the  Germans  were  driven  back  to  Soissons,  with 
enormous  losses.] 

IT  was  early  on  the  afternoon  of  August  26  when  we 
entered  Landrecies,  which  is  a  little  garrison  town, 
consisting  mostly  of  a  single  street  in  which  there 
are  three  cross-roads.  We  were  billeted  in  the 
people's  houses,  and  for  the  first  time  in  three  days 
we  had  a  drop  of  tea  and  a  bit  of  dinner  in  comfort, 
and  to  crown  our  satisfaction  we  were  told  we  could 
lie  down  and  rest,  but  we  were  to  have  our  bayonets 
fixed  and  rifles  by  our  sides  and  kits  ready  to  put 
on. 

We  were  soon  down  to  it  and  sound  asleep.     It 

236 


THE  VICTORY   OF  THE   MARNE       287 

was  about  eight  o'clock  when  some  of  us  woke,  and 
after  a  smoke  were  off  to  sleep  again,  but  not  for 
long,  for  almost  immediately  we  heard  the  sound  of 
a  motor-cycle,  and  knew  that  the  rider  was  travelling 
at  a  terrific  rate. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  sound,  and  the  rider 
himself  swept  round  the  corner  of  the  street.  He 
never  stopped  nor  slackened  speed;  he  simply 
shouted  one  word  as  he  vanished,  and  that  was 
"  Germans  !  "  Only  one  word,  but  enough. 

Rifles  in  hand,  we  rushed  to  the  top  of  the  street 
and  lined  the  three  cross-roads,  lying  down.  Our 
officer,  who  was  standing  up  behind  us,  said,  "  Lie 
still,  men";  and  we  did  —  perfectly  still,  not  a 
man  moving.  All  at  once,  out  of  the  darkness,  an 
officer  came  and  cried  in  English  to  our  commander, 
44  Surrender  !  " 

4  We  don't  surrender  here  !  "  our  officer  answered. 
4  Take  that !  " — and  instantly  shot  him  through  the 
head  with  his  revolver. 

Our  officer's  shot  had  scarcely  died  away  when 
crash  went  a  German  artillery  gun,  and  a  lyddite 
shell  burst  right  over  us.  This  was  our  first  experi- 
ence of  lyddite,  and  the  fumes  nearly  choked  us. 

44  Lie  still,  boys — don't  move  !  "  said  our  officer; 
and  we  lay  low. 

Just  then,  from  the  opposite  direction,  we  heard 
the  sound  of  horses  and  a  waggon,  in  the  distance, 
it  seemed;  but  soon  it  was  very  near,  and  to  our 
great  joy  there  dashed  up  the  street  one  of  the  guns 
of  the  17th  Field  Battery.  There  was  a  shout  of 
44  Into  action  !  Left  wheel  !  "  And  in  truly  magni- 
ficent style  that  gun  was  almost  instantly  laid  and 
ready  for  action. 


238    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Shells  now  came  upon  us  rapidly,  wounding  several 
of  our  men;  but  our  maxim  gunners  had  got  to 
work,  and  very  soon  enormous  numbers  of  Germans 
were  put  beyond  the  power  of  doing  any  further 
mischief. 

Many  splendid  things  were  done  that  night  at 
Landrecies;  but  there  was  nothing  finer  than  the 
work  of  our  maxim-gunner  Robson,  who  was  on  our 
left.  Our  machine-guns  were  by  now  at  our  end  of 
the  town,  and  they  had  a  solid  mass  of  Germans 
to  go  at.  Robson  was  sitting  on  his  stool,  and  as 
soon  as  the  officer  ordered  "  Fire  !  "  his  maxim  hailed 
death.  It  literally  was  a  hail  of  fire  that  met  the 
packed  Germans,  and  swept  down  the  head  of  the 
column,  so  that  the  street  was  choked  in  an  instant 
with  the  German  dead.  Those  who  lived  behind 
pushed  on  in  desperation — shoved  on  by  the  masses 
still  further  behind,  the  darkness  being  made  light 
by  the  fire  of  the  maxims  and  the  enemy's  rifles. 
Those  behind,  I  say,  pressed  on,  with  fearful  cries, 
but  only  to  be  mown  down  and  shattered,  so  that 
the  street  became  more  than  ever  glutted  with  the 
dead  and  wounded.  The  Germans  were  thrown  into 
frenzy,  and  if  sheer  weight  of  men  could  have  driven 
the  head  of  the  column  on  to  us  not  a  British  soldier 
could  have  lived  that  night  at  Landrecies. 

Meanwhile,  we  had  been  ordered  to  hold  our  fire. 
There  were  only  600  of  us  opposed  to  an  immense 
body  of  Germans;  but  the  maxims  were  doing 
annihilating  work,  and  the  artillery  had  got  into 
action. 

When  the  gun  of  the  17th  had  got  the  order  to 
fire  we  heard  a  gunner  shout :  "  Watch  me  put 
that  gun  out  of  action  !  " — meaning  a  German  gun 


THE   VICTORY   OF  THE   MARNE       239 

which  had  been  brought  up  and  laid  against  us. 
He  fired,  and  the  most  marvellous  thing  happened, 
for  the  shell  from  it  went  right  down  the  muzzle 
of  the  German  weapon  and  shattered  it  to  pieces. 

Then  we  heard  a  shout,  and  before  we  could  look 
round  about  4000  German  infantry  were  charging 
us,  with  horns  blowing  and  drums  beating — adding 
to  the  fearful  din. 

"  Don't  shoot,  boys,"  shouted  our  officer,  "  till 
I  give  the  word  !  ': 

On  the  living  mass  of  Germans  came.  They 
rushed  up  to  within  80  yards  of  us;  then  the  order 
rang  out :  "  Fire  !  " 

Again  the  Germans  got  it — fifteen  rounds  to  the 
minute  from  each  rifle,  for  the  front  rank  men  had 
their  loading  done  for  them.  As  soon  as  a  rifle  was 
emptied  it  was  handed  to  the  rear  and  a  fresh  loaded 
rifle  was  handed  back.  In  this  way  the  rifles  were 
kept  from  getting  too  hot,  and  an  incessant  fire  was 
poured  into  the  Germans. 

In  spite  of  this  hail,  a  few  Germans  managed  to 
break  through  their  walls  of  dead  and  wounded. 
One  of  them,  disguised  as  a  French  officer,  and  wanting 
us  to  think  he  had  been  a  prisoner,  but  had  just 
broken  away  from  the  Germans,  rushed  up  to  Robson 
and  patted  him  on  the  shoulder  and  said  :  "  Brave 
fellow  !  "  And  with  that  he  whipped  round  his  sword 
and  killed  our  maxim  gunner  on  the  spot;  but  he 
himself  was  instantly  shot  down  by  our  enraged 
fellows. 

There  was  another  case  of  treachery,  this  time, 
unhappily,  from  inside  our  ranks.  Our  guide,  a 
man  claiming  to  be  a  Frenchman,  at  about  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  turned  traitor,  and  went 


240    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

and  told  the  Germans  how  many  there  were  of  us, 
and  by  way  of  indicating  our  position  he  fired  a 
haystack;  but  he  had  no  sooner  done  that  than  two 
bullets  settled  him. 

One  of  our  corporals  dashed  away  to  put  the  fire 
out,  but  before  he  reached  the  haystack  he  was 
killed.  It  was  at  this  time  that  Private  Wyatt, 
of  my  company,  rushed  out — everything  was  done 
at  a  rush — and  brought  in  a  wounded  officer.  The 
colonel,  who  was  on  his  horse,  and  saw  what  had 
happened,  said:  "Who  is  that  brave  man?"  He 
was  told,  and  afterwards  Wyatt  was  taken  before 
the  general  and  recommended  for  a  decoration. 

Hour  after  hour,  all  through  the  time  of  darkness, 
and  until  daylight  came,  that  terrible  fight  went  on. 
For  seven  long  hours  a  few  hundred  British  Guards 
had  kept  at  bay  an  enormous  body  of  Germans — 
and  at  the  end  of  the  firing  we  had  killed  far  more 
than  the  whole  of  our  force  numbered  when  the 
battle  began.  We  had  given  them  wholesale  death 
from  our  machine-guns,  our  rifles,  and  our  artillery, 
and  they  had  faced  it — they  had  been  driven  on  to 
it.  Now  they  were  to  have  the  bayonet. 

We  gave  them  two  charges ;  but  they  didn't  stop 
long,  for  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  cold  steel  on  the 
ends  of  our  rifles  they  were  off  like  a  shot,  throwing 
down  a  lot  of  rifles  and  equipment.  When  this 
happened  it  was  between  five  and  six  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  the  27th,  and  we  then  got  the  order  to 
retire. 

We  were  told  that  we  had  lost  126  in  killed  and 
wounded.  That  was  a  heavy  list,  but  not  so  big 
as  we  had  expected,  bearing  in  mind  the  furious 
nature  of  the  fight.  The  marvel  was  that  we  had 


THE   VICTORY   OF  THE  MARNE       241 

not  been  wiped  out,  and  we  should  certainly  have 
been  in  a  very  serious  state  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  17th  Field  Battery.  There  is  this  to  be  said, 
too  :  if  the  Germans  had  broken  through  our  lines  it 
would  have  meant  that,  in  all  probability,  the  whole 
Second  Division  of  our  army  would  have  been  cut  up. 

We  fell  in  and  were  soon  on  the  march  again,  retiring, 
and  we  marched  as  fast  as  we  could  go  till  we  halted 
at  a  rather  large  town  about  ten  miles  from  Lan- 
drecies.  Here  we  were  in  clover,  in  a  way  of  speaking, 
because  we  sheltered  in  a  clay-pit  where  the  French 
had  been  making  bricks,  and  we  all  sat  down  and 
waited  for  our  tea  of  German  shells. 

They  soon  came  and  we  were  on  the  move  again, 
and  we  were  constantly  at  it,  retiring  and  fighting, 
until  we  halted  about  thirty  miles  from  Paris;  then 
we  were  told  that  after  retiring  another  dozen  miles 
it  would  be  our  turn  to  advance. 

Didn't  we  cheer?  It  was  glorious  to  hear  we 
were  going  to  chase  the  Germans  instead  of  their 
chasing  us.  At  this  time  we  had  our  first  wash  for 
a  fortnight,  and  it  was  as  good  as  having  a  thousand 
pounds  given  to  us. 

The  fiercest  fighting  of  the  war  has  taken  place 
on  Sundays,  and  it  was  on  a  Sunday  that  the  Battle 
of  the  Marne  began.  The  Germans  had  had  the 
biggest  surprise  of  their  lives  on  a  Sunday,  and  that 
was  at  Mons.  Though  we  had  been  kept  on  the 
go  because  they  outnumbered  us  so  hopelessly,  we 
mauled  them  mercilessly  on  the  retreat,  teaching 
them  many  bitter  lessons.  When  we  got  to  the 
Marne  and  were  able  to  tackle  them  on  equal  terms, 
they  scarcely  had  a  look  in.  The  Germans  had 
almost  reached  the  forts  of  Paris,  and,  I  daresay, 


242     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

had  their  bands  ready  to  play  them  into  the  city. 
Soon,  however,  they  were  hurrying  back  on  their 
tracks  a  good  deal  faster  than  they  had  come.  We 
heard  the  German  bands  playing  a  good  many 
times,  but  every  time  we  heard  the  music  it  was 
farther  away  from  Paris. 

We  covered  such  big  tracks  of  country,  and  saw 
so  many  great  happenings,  that  it  is  the  most  difficult 
thing  in  the  world  to  know  where  to  start  a  story 
of  the  Marne;  but  I  will  come  down  to  the  time 
just  before  the  battle,  when  we  were  still  retiring, 
and  had  got  used  to  marching  twenty  or  twenty- 
five  miles  a  day.  We  had  left  the  Germans  very 
sore  for  coming  too  close  to  us,  and  we  had  gone 
through  a  small  town  and  entered  a  great  wood. 

While  we  were  in  the  wood  I  had  to  fall  out. 
Almost  instantly  I  heard  the  sound  of  talking  which 
wasn't  English,  and  in  the  distance  I  saw  six  Germans 
coming  after  me  as  hard  as  they  could.  I  thought 
it  was  all  up  with  me,  but  I  said  "  Come  on,  chum, 
let's  clear  !  " — "  chum  "  being  my  rifle,  which  I  had 
placed  on  the  ground.  I  snatched  it  up  and  sprang 
behind  a  tree,  and  felt  fairly  safe.  It's  wonderful 
what  a  feeling  of  security  a  good  rifle  and  plenty 
of  ammunition  give  you.  I  waited  till  the  Germans 
got  within  a  hundred  yards  of  me;  then  with  a 
good  aim  I  fetched  down  two ;  but  my  position  was 
becoming  very  critical,  as  the  other  four  dodged 
from  tree  to  tree,  watching  for  a  chance  to  pot  me, 
and  it  looked  very  much  as  if  they  wouldn't  have 
long  to  wait.  I  don't  know  what  would  have 
happened,  but  to  my  intense  relief  three  men  of  the 
17th  Field  Battery,  which  was  passing,  rushed  up 
and  shouted,  "  Don't  move.  We'll  have  'em  !  " 


THE   VICTORY   OF  THE   MARNE       243 

By  this  time  the  four  Germans  were  within  about 
fifty  yards,  continually  sniping  at  me — how  I  blessed 
them  for  being  such  bad  shots  ! — and  at  last  they 
came  out  into  the  open  and  made  straight  in  my 
direction.  But  they  only  dashed  about  twenty 
yards,  for  my  rescuers  put  "  paid  "  to  the  four  of 
them,  and  saved  me  from  being  made  a  prisoner 
and  worse,  far  worse,  for  by  that  time  we  had  seen 
proof  enough  of  the  monstrous  things  they  did  to 
men  they  captured — things  you  might  expect  from 
savages,  but  certainly  not  from  soldiers  of  a  nation 
that  boasts  so  much  of  its  civilisation. 

The  last  day  of  our  retirement  was  September  4, 
and  on  that  day  we  never  saw  the  enemy.  We 
had  crossed  and  recrossed  the  River  Marne,  and  had 
blown  up  bridges  as  we  retired;  but  the  Germans 
threw  their  own  bridges  over  the  river  with  amazing 
speed,  and  kept  up  the  pursuit.  Sometimes  they 
overdid  their  zeal,  and  were  a  trifle  too  quick  for 
their  own  comfort. 

We  had  blown  up  two  bridges  that  crossed  the 
Marne,  one  a  railway  bridge  and  the  other  a  fine  stone 
structure.  I  was  one  of  the  last  of  our  men  to  cross 
the  stone  bridge  before  the  engineers,  who  had  made 
it  ready  for  destruction.  The  bridge  ran  between 
two  high  banks,  so  that  it  was  a  considerable  height 
above  the  water.  When  the  explosion  took  place 
there  was  a  tremendous  shattering  roar,  almost 
like  a  salvo  of  Black  Marias,  then  a  crashing  and 
grinding  and  thudding  as  the  middle  of  the  bridge 
was  utterly  wrecked,  and  fell  into  the  river,  leaving 
an  immense  gap  between  the  banks.  The  work  of 
months,  costing  thousands  upon  thousands  of  pounds, 
had  been  smashed  in  a  few  seconds. 


244     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

I  was  looking  back  at  the  ruins  when  I  saw  a 
motor-car,  with  several  Germans  in  it,  tearing  after 
us,  meaning  to  cross  the  bridge  as  we  had  done. 
The  car  came  on  at  a  tremendous  speed,  and  the 
Germans  in  it  must  have  had  eyes  only  for  us  and 
none  for  the  road  in  front  of  them,  for  they  rushed 
on  right  into  the  blank  space,  and  before  they  knew 
what  was  happening,  the  car  was  in  the  river. 

We  had  had  battle  after  battle,  each  one  in  itself 
enough  to  make  a  long  story.  We  had  fought  and 
marched  in  the  fearful  August  heat,  and  had  been 
thankful  when  we  could  lie  down  with  a  little  heap 
of  sand  or  a  sheaf  of  corn  as  a  pillow.  At  last  we 
were  so  near  Paris  that  the  forts  opened  fire,  and  that 
was  the  beginning  of  what  I'm  sure  will  be  the  end 
of  the  Germans. 

Now  at  last  we  were  in  touch  with  the  French, 
and  we  got  the  Germans  in  a  proper  grip.  The 
French  got  round  the  Germans  and  turned  them 
towards  Coulommiers,  a  town  on  the  Marne;  then 
the  British  took  the  job  on  and  drove  the  Germans 
through  the  town.  That  part  of  the  work  fell 
largely  on  the  Guards,  and  what  we  were  doing  was 
being  done,  of  course,  over  an  enormous  stretch  of 
country  by  other  British  and  French  troops. 

We  had  got  to  the  night  of  September  5  and 
were  lying  in  trenches  which  we  had  dug  along  a 
canal  bank  about  Coulommiers.  We  waited  for  the 
Germans  to  come,  and  they  came  in  fine  style.  It 
was  getting  dark  and  we  could  make  out  three  of 
their  aeroplanes  sweeping  in  the  air  like  big  birds. 
We  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  German  aeroplanes 
by  this  time  and  knew  what  to  expect.  These 
were  trying  to  find  out  our  positions,  so  that  they 


[To  face  p.  244. 


BEFORE   THEY    KNEW   WHAT   WAS   HAPPENING    THE    CAR   WAS 
IN   THE   RIVER." 


THE   VICTORY   OF  THE   MARNE       245 

could  signal  to  their  gunners  and  give  them  the 
range. 

Suddenly  the  aeroplanes  dropped  some  balls  of 
blue  fire,  and  very  pretty  the  fireworks  looked; 
but  we  hadn't  time  to  admire  them,  because  the 
German  artillery  instantly  opened  fire  on  us  with 
such  fury  that  we  felt  the  very  ground  shake  as  we 
lay  in  our  trenches. 

Under  cover  of  their  guns  the  Germans — the 
32nd  Infantry  Brigade,  I  think  it  was — dashed  up 
to  the  other  side  of  the  canal  bank  and  blazed  away 
at  us ;  but  we  blazed  harder  at  them.  We  gave 
them  a  fair  hell  of  rifle  fire  and  very  soon  they  were 
forced  to  clear  out,  leaving  the  whole  of  the  canal 
bank  littered  with  their  dead  and  wounded. 

A  fine  little  "  tiffey  "  we  had  at  the  Marne  was  a 
rearguard  action,  in  which  there  was  one  of  those 
British  cavalry  and  infantry  charges  that  have 
shaken  a  lot  of  the  Germans  to  pieces,  especially 
the  Uhlans,  who  are  a  pretty  poor  crowd  in  spite 
of  all  their  boasting. 

Our  scouts  had  returned  with  the  news  that  the 
Germans  were  entrenched  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
away,  on  the  bank  of  the  Marne.  We  got  the  order 
to  extend  the  usual  three  paces,  and  our  advance 
guard  went  out,  while  our  main  body  lay  down. 
Our  advance  guard  had  gone  about  900  yards  when 
the  German  infantry  opened  fire.  We  took  it  up, 
and  there  was  a  ceaseless  rattle.  We  kept  the  Germans 
well  employed,  and  our  advance  guard  were  pouring 
in  a  proper  good  peppering.  But  there  was  a  little 
surprise  in  store  for  them.  We  had  with  us  a  couple 
of  the  magnificent  British  cavalry  regiments — the 
Scots  Greys  and  the  16th  Lancers,  and  they  swept 


246     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

on  till  they  got  to  a  little  wood,  where  they  had  the 
Germans  on  the  left  wing  of  their  rearguard,  fairly 
at  their  mercy.  When  they  were  ready  for  the 
charge  the  signal  was  given  to  our  advance  guard, 
and,  with  a  perfect  roar  of  cheering,  the  British 
cavalry  and  infantry  hurled  themselves  on  the 
Germans,  a  tremendous  weight  of  horse  and  man. 
The  Greys  and  the  16th  fairly  thundered  over  the 
earth,  and  the  Guards  rushed  up  in  splendid  style, 
though  we  had  our  heavy  packs,  and  in  such  hot 
weather  a  big  weight  adds  enormously  to  the  terrific 
work  of  charging.  But  you  don't  think  of  heat  or 
weight  at  such  a  time — you  feel  only  the  thrill  and 
excitement  of  the  battle  and  have  the  joy  of  knowing 
that  you  are  settling  the  account  of  a  suffering  and 
outraged  nation. 

Cavalry  and  Guards  got  in  amongst  the  Germans 
and  fairly  scattered  them.  I  got  one  German  in 
the  back  and  another  sideways,  and  all  around  me 
chums  were  doing  the  same,  while  the  cavalry  were 
cutting  the  Germans  down  everywhere.  Limbs 
literally  flew  about  as  they  were  lopped  off  with  the 
sword,  and  Germans  in  the  open  and  in  the  trenches 
— for  we  routed  them  out — fell  to  the  bayonet. 

That  was  a  fierce  and  bloody  "  tiffey,"  and  there 
have  been  many  like  it.  At  the  end  of  it  we  had 
settled  that  particular  German  rearguard  and  had 
a  nice  bag  of  prisoners.  A  lot  of  these  prisoners 
were  glad  to  be  out  of  the  business;  most  of  the 
Germans  we  captured  seemed  to  feel  like  that,  and 
I  remember  hearing  one  of  them — an  officer — say, 
in  good  English,  "  Thank  God  I'm  caught !  Now  I 
shall  not  starve  any  more  !  " 

Talking  of  charges,  I   might  tell    you  that  there 


THE   VICTORY   OF  THE   MARNE       247 

is  a  great  difference  between  the  British  and  the 
German  ways  of  doing  it.  The  Germans  make  as 
much  noise  as  possible — a  perfect  devil  of  a  row, 
with  drums  thumping  and  trumpets  sounding,  and,  of 
course,  their  banners  flying.  We  carry  no  colours  into 
action  (we  leave  them  at  home),  we  have  no  drum- 
thumping  and  no  bugles  sounding — often  enough  the 
signal  for  a  charge  is  just  something  like  a  hand  wave 
or  a  word  of  command ;  but  that  answers  all  practical 
purposes  and  starts  us  on  the  business  as  quickly  and 
full  of  fire  as  any  amount  of  noise. 

When  we  had  got  through  our  first  rearguard 
action  we  thought  we  had  driven  the  Germans  to 
the  other  side  of  the  Marne  and  got  them  fairly  on 
the  move  back  to  Berlin ;  but  to  our  surprise  we  were 
attacked  by  a  strong  force  of  their  cavalry,  who  had 
been  in  ambush  not  a  thousand  yards  away.  The 
German  horsemen  came  on  us  at  a  full  gallop  and 
swept  on  until  they  were  about  two  hundred  yards 
away.  At  this  particular  spot  there  were  Guards, 
Worcesters,  and  Camerons,  and  it  looked  very  much 
as  if  the  Germans  would  dash  up  and  do  a  lot  of 
mischief. 

The  commander  of  the  Worcesters  shouted,  "  Fix 
bayonets  !  Make  sure  of  your  men." 

On  came  the  German  cavalry,  with  a  roar  and  a 
rattle,  until  they  were  less  than  a  hundred  yards 
away;  then  we  let  go  and  the  troopers  tumbled  out 
of  their  saddles  like  ninepins.  The  going  was  too 
hard  for  German  cavalry,  and  as  one  of  their  officers 
shouted  an  order,  they  wheeled  round  and  made 
off,  rushing,  as  they  supposed,  for  a  safe  place  and 
a  way  out;  but  they  galloped  straight  up  to  a  spot 
where  some  French  artillery  were  in  position. 


248    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

The  Germans  thundered  on  towards  their  fancied 
safety;  then  there  were  crashes  from  the  French 
artillery,  and  shells  went  plump  into  the  horsemen 
and  practically  annihilated  them.  Horses  and  men 
were  shattered,  and  of  those  who  escaped  the  French 
took  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  prisoners.  It 
was  a  fine  little  performance,  and  helped  us  to  fix 
in  our  memories  the  first  meeting  with  the  Frenchmen 
on  the  Marne. 

The  artillery  fire  on  the  Marne  was  awful  in  its 
destructiveness  and  earsplitting  in  its  noise — some- 
times the  very  air  seemed  to  be  solid  matter  that  was 
broken  into  chunks  and  knocked  about  you;  but 
we  soon  got  used  to  it  all,  and  laughed  and  smoked 
and  joked  in  the  trenches,  where,  at  the  back,  we 
had  dug-outs  which  we  called  rabbit-hutches,  These 
were  shelter-places,  well  covered  at  the  top,  and 
were  most  useful  protections  against  shells.  When 
the  enemy's  fire  became  too  hot  we  would  go  into 
our  rabbit-hutches. 

About  noon  on  the  6th  we  had  re-formed  and 
advanced  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  there  we  found 
that  we  were  opposed  to  a  large  body  of  Germans 
and  that  they  had  howitzer  batteries  with  them. 
These  howitzers  do  deadly  mischief,  and  the  fumes 
from  their  lyddite  shells  are  perfectly  poisonous — 
they  spread  through  a  good  big  patch  of  air  and 
suffocate  the  men.  It  was  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  when  the  Germans  began  to  pour  into 
us  a  fearful  fire,  and  we  were  enfiladed;  but  our 
trenches  gave  us  some  fine  shelter,  and  the  Germans 
did  not  have  their  own  way  for  long,  nor  did  they 
do  much  damage  at  that  point.  Here  again  the 
British  had  ready  one  more  of  the  many  surprises 


THE   VICTORY  OF  THE  MARNE       249 

that  the  Germans  met  with  on  the  banks  of  the  Marne. 
One  of  our  batteries  of  short  howitzers,  four  guns, 
went  along  the  river  bank  and  hid  in  some  bushes 
on  the  right  of  the  German  howitzers,  while  a  battery 
of  our  field  artillery  dashed  up  and  took  a  com- 
manding position  which  got  the  Germans  between 
two  fires.  Then  the  command  was  given,  "  Ten 
rounds  rapid  fire  !  " 

But  ten  rounds  were  not  needed — only  four  were 
fired  before  the  German  battery  was  put  to  rest. 
But  the  crippling  of  the  German  howitzers  did  not 
seem  to  have  much  effect  on  the  enemy  at  that  point, 
for  they  rushed  up  more  of  the  infantry,  which, 
brought  along  by  immense  numbers  of  trains  and 
motors,  literally  swarmed  over  the  countryside. 

At  this  time  we  renewed  our  acquaintance  with 
some  of  the  Germans  who  were  known  to  us  as  the 
"  drop-shots."  I  believe  there  is  only  one  brigade 
of  them  in  the  German  Army,  and  I  will  do  them 
the  justice  to  say  that  they  are  very  good  at  the 
game.  They  kneel  down,  and  putting  the  butt  of 
the  rifle  on  the  thigh,  fire  in  the  air  at  an  angle  of 
about  forty-five  degrees.  The  bullet  makes  a  big 
arc  and  drops  right  on  top  of  you  in  such  places  as 
trenches.  These  "  drop-shots "  were  about  four 
hundred  yards  away,  but  they  hadn't  got  just  the 
right  range  of  us  and  the  bullets  plugged  into  the 
wrong  places. 

The  "  drop-shots  "  tried  their  queer  game  on  us 
for  about  half  an  hour,  but  finding  that  they  could 
not  damage  us,  they  stopped,  especially  as  we  were 
beginning  to  shift  them  out  of  their  positions.  There 
was  some  furious  rifle  firing  between  the  troops 
entrenched  on  both  banks  of  the  Marne,  and  often 


250     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

enough  the  reddened  water  bore  away  many  a  dead 
soldier. 

The  righting  was  always  most  fierce  when  the 
Germans  were  in  masses  and  hurled  their  regiments 
against  us  in  their  attempt  to  hack  their  way  through 
to  Paris.  Any  street  fighting  that  came  about  was 
sure  to  be  terrific,  and  one  of  the  most  furious  of  the 
fights  took  place  in  the  streets  of  Coulommiers,  a 
town  similar  to  Reading. 

Coulommiers,  of  course,  was  almost  entirely  given 
up  to  troops,  for  the  inhabitants  had  been  warned 
by  us  to  leave  and  get  as  far  away  from  the  Germans 
as  they  could  go.  Poor  souls,  they  did  not  need 
much  persuading,  knowing  what  they  did  of  German 
44  culture,"  and,  carrying  with  them  only  such  few 
oddments  as  they  could  quickly  collect,  they  fled, 
the  roads  leading  to  Paris  being  thick  with  them. 
During  this  fighting  in  Coulommiers  there  was  such 
brilliant  moonlight  that  you  could  see  almost  well 
enough  to  shoot  a  rabbit. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  at  night  when  we  got 
to  Coulommiers.  We  were  just  going  to  stop  to 
have  some  food  when  the  Germans  put  two  big  shells 
into  us,  killing  four  of  our  men,  and  wounding  four- 
teen. We  jumped  up,  fixed  bayonets,  and  rushed 
for  the  Germans;  but  we  were  brought  up  by  some 
more  shells,  and  for  a  couple  of  hours  the  guns  were 
banging  at  us.  Fortunately  the  shells  had  a  bit  too 
long  a  range,  and  instead  of  hitting  us  they  went  over 
the  back  of  us. 

We  lay  down  until  ten  o'clock,  when  the  order 
was  given  to  prepare  to  charge.  Up  again  we  sprang 
— we  were  getting  used  to  charging — and  made 
another  rush,  running  as  hard  as  we  could  down  the 


THE   VICTORY  OF  THE   MARNE       251 

street  for  a  hundred  yards,  then  lying  flat  in  the 
roadway. 

All  this  time  the  Germans  were  pouring  in  on  us 
a  fire  which,  if  it  had  been  accurate,  would  have 
swept  us  out  of  existence.  But  it  was  very  poor 
stuff,  and  we  were  lucky  enough  to  escape  with  the 
loss  of  a  very  few  men.  We  were  lying  down  for 
five  minutes,  then  we  were  up  and  off  again,  dashing 
along  the  main  street. 

It  was  a  rousing  bit  of  work,  and  we  gloried  in  it, 
especially  when,  from  every  doorway  in  the  street, 
Germans  dashed  out  and  made  a  bolt  for  their  lives. 
They  had  been  firing  at  us  from  bedroom  windows, 
and  tore  frantically  downstairs  and  out  of  doorways 
when  they  saw  that  we  were  fairly  on  the  job  and 
after  them. 

That  bolting  gave  us  just  the  chance  we  wanted. 
We  drove  after  the  flying  Germans  as  hard  as  we 
could  go,  and  being  big  and  powerful  men,  with 
plenty  of  weight  in  us,  we  literally  picked  some  of 
them  up  on  the  bayonets.  We  rushed  them  through 
the  town  and  out  of  it ;  then  we  came  across  a  gang 
of  Germans  who  were  no  good  at  all.  They  had 
looted  all  the  wine-shops  and  soaked  themselves  with 
liquor.  Many  a  German  from  Mons  to  the  Marne 
was  drunk  when  he  died  or  was  made  a  prisoner. 

When  we  had  dashed  through  Coulommiers  we  had 
to  halt,  because  the  Germans  had  four  batteries  of 
guns  and  a  division  of  cavalry  waiting  for  us.  So 
we  retired  to  the  cross-roads  in  the  middle  of  the 
town,  and  had  to  take  up  almost  exactly  the  same 
position  as  we  did  at  Landrecies,  where  the  Cold- 
streamers  wiped  out  a  strong  German  force  in  the 
street.  We  waited  at  Coulommiers  till  our  heavy 


252     SOLDIERS'   STORIES  OF  THE   WAR 

howitzer  batteries  were  fetched  up,  then  we  lined  the 
cross-roads,  two  howitzers  were  placed  at  the  end  of 
each  street  and  we  were  in  at  the  finish  of  the  fight. 

It  was  about  midnight  when  the  Germans  started 
shelling  us  again,  and  the  town  blazed  and  boomed 
with  the  awful  gunfire.  We  did  not  suffer  much 
damage,  but  the  houses  were  wrecked,  and  bricks 
and  stones  and  pieces  of  timber  were  flying  all  about. 
A  few  of  the  bricks  struck  us,  but  we  paid  no  heed  to 
trifles  like  that.  The  Germans  kept  up  the  firing  till 
about  half-past  two  in  the  morning.  Then,  to  our 
great  surprise,  they  charged  down  the  street. 

"  Lie  still,  boys,  and  let  them  come  !  "  our  officers 
shouted. 

We  lay  perfectly  quiet,  and  let  the  Germans  rush 
on  till  they  were  almost  upon  us;  then  the  sharp 
order  came  :  "  Ten  rounds  rapid  fire  !  " 

There  was  an  absolute  fusillade,  and  the  ten  rounds 
were  fired  in  less  than  a  minute,  and  simply  struck 
the  Germans  down.  Their  dead  and  wounded  were 
lying  thick  in  the  roadway  and  on  the  pavements 
when  we  sprang  up  and  were  after  the  survivors  with 
the  bayonet.  This  time  we  chased  them  up  to  the 
very  muzzles  of  the  guns,  where  we  had  a  splendid 
bit  of  luck.  The  German  gunners  flew  when  they 
saw  us,  and  we  were  on  top  of  them  and  on  top  of  the 
infantry.  We  dashed  straight  through  the  batteries, 
the  enemy  flying  before  the  bayonet,  and  there,  in 
the  moonlight,  which  was  almost  as  strong  as  day- 
light, I  accounted  for  two  of  them  with  my  own  steel. 

For  fully  three  miles  that  furious  chase  was  kept 
up,  the  Germans  flying  in  all  directions.  It  was  a 
long  and  fierce  fight  in  the  moonlight,  but  at  the  end 
of  it  Coulommiers  was  ours,  and  six  batteries  of 


THE  VICTORY  OF  THE  MARNE       253 

German  guns  and  a  thousand  prisoners  were  ours, 
too,  to  say  nothing  of  the  killed  and  wounded. 

You  might  have  thought  that  enough  had  been 
done,  but  we  had  scarcely  settled  down  to  have  a 
little  drop  of  something  hot  to  drink — and  we  needed 
it  badly — when  the  cry  arose,  "  Come  on,  boys ;  let's 
get  after  them  again !  "  We  emptied  our  canteens, 
which  were  full  of  hot  coffee  and  rum,  and  were  after 
the  Germans  again  as  hard  as  we  could  go.  By  day- 
light we  had  put  the  finish  on  them  at  Coulommiers. 
We  were  well  pleased,  too,  with  the  fine  haul  of  guns. 

We  had  fought  fiercely,  and  had  not  spared  the 
Germans — no  one  could  have  any  mercy  on  them  who 
saw  the  proofs,  as  we  had  seen  them,  of  their  bar- 
barities. When  we  advanced  into  Coulommiers  we 
saw  the  bodies  of  two  little  girls  who  had  been  mur- 
dered and  mutilated  in  a  shocking  manner.  There 
were  in  that  locality  alone  scores  of  such  atrocities 
committed  by  the  brutes  who  came  from  the  land  of 
"  culture  "  and  are  being  driven  back  to  it. 

I  had  a  fair  innings  at  the  Marne,  and  saw  a  good 
deal  of  the  beginning  of  the  fight  which  started  the 
Germans  on  the  run.  I  had  two  days  and  nights  of 
it;  then  I  was  bowled  out  by  a  piece  of  shell  which 
struck  me  on  the  thigh  and  went  off  with  a  piece  of 
flesh.  I  felt  as  if  a  brick  had  hit  me,  and  when  I  saw 
the  blood  I  thought  it  was  all  up  with  me.  The 
doctor  told  me  that  this  might  easily  have  happened 
if  the  wound  had  been  a  little  deeper.  He  was  Lieu- 
tenant Huggin,  of  the  Royal  Army  Medical  Corps,  a 
kind  and  brave  gentleman,  who  was  soon  afterwards 
killed  while  doing  his  duty  under  fire.  He  was  men- 
tioned in  despatches,  with  other  officers  who  did  so 
much.  I  remember  one  of  them,  a  field  officer  of  the 


254     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Coldstreamers,  during  a  very  hot  fight  standing  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  watching  to  see  how  things 
were  going,  and  saying,  "  Men,  this  is  beautiful  !  We 
shall  soon  be  on  the  other  side  of  the  river." 

And  we  soon  were  —  though  to  cross  the  Marne 
meant  that  we  had  at  one  time  to  fight  waist  deep 
in  its  waters. 

The  Battle  of  the  Marne  was  hard,  long  work,  fol- 
lowing a  long  and  terrible  retreat;  but  it  was  a 
glorious  victory.  We  had  many  privations,  but  also 
many  compensations,  and  we  were  always  cheerful, 
and  very  often  singing.  "  Tipper ary  "  was  an  easy 
first. 

We  often  saw  Sir  John  French  and  General  Joffre, 
and  I  can  tell  you  that  when  our  own  great  field- 
marshal  appeared  it  was  as  good  as  a  victory  for  us, 
for  we  fairly  worship  him.  Sir  John  is  a  thorough 
gentleman,  and  the  friend  of  every  soldier.  He  used 
to  come  into  the  trenches  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  take  no  more  notice  of  the  German  shells  and 
bullets  which  were  bursting  and  flying  about  than  if 
they  were  peas  shot  by  little  boys. 

One  morning  Sir  John  came  round  the  trenches, 
and  said,  as  usual,  "  Is  everything  all  right,  men?  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  was  told,  "  we  want  a  drop  of  water, 
please."  And  we  did  want  it,  badly,  because  the 
weather  was  so  fearfully  hot,  and  we  were  almost 
boiled  in  our  uniforms  and  heavy  kits. 

"  Certainly;  I'll  see  to  that  at  once,"  replied  the 
field-marshal.  He  immediately  turned  round,  called 
to  some  men  of  the  transport  who  were  at  hand,  and 
told  them  to  bring  us  some  water  at  once. 

General  Joffre,  too,  was  a  great  favourite.  He 
speaks  English  well.  Once  when  he  came  into  the 


[To  face  p.  254. 


"  CAVALRY   AND    GUARDS   GOT   IN   AMONGST   THE   GERMANS 
AND    FAIRLY   SCATTERED    THEM  "  (p.  246). 


THE   VICTORY   OF  THE   MARNE       255 

trenches  he  asked  if  there  was  anything  we  should 
like.  Well,  we  wanted  some  cigarettes  badly,  and 
told  him  so,  and  he  promptly  took  a  box  of  about  a 
hundred  from  his  pocket,  and  handed  them  round. 
They  went  almost  as  fast  as  the  Germans. 

I  am  now  well  enough  to  be  back  at  the  front,  and 
I'm  keen  to  get  into  the  firing  line  again,  and  rush 
along  in  some  more  bayonet  charges — for  those  are 
the  swoops  that  roll  the  Germans  up  as  much  as 
anything  we  do. 

I  have  been  a  Coldstreamer  for  more  than  a  dozen 
years,  and  have  always  been  proud  of  it;  but  I 
never  felt  prouder  than  I  do  now,  after  reading  what 
our  great  chief  has  said  about  us  in  despatches. 

We  have  sometimes  been  called  feather-bed  soldiers ; 
but  we're  known  as  "  Coldsteelers  "  now,  and  try  to 
live  up  to  the  reputation  of  our  motto — "  Second  to 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AN    ARMOURED    CAR   IN    AMBUSH 

[Sir  John  French,  in  one  of  his  despatches,  expressed  his 
great  admiration  of  the  splendid  work  which  has  been  done  at 
the  front  by  our  Territorials — that  work,  indeed,  by  this  time 
has  become  almost  equal  to  the  glorious  achievements  of  our 
Regular  troops.  The  first  of  our  Territorials  to  go  into  action 
during  the  war  were  the  Northumberland  Hussars,  and  this 
story  is  told  by  Trooper  Stanley  Dodds,  of  that  fine  corps,  who 
was  serving  as  a  despatch -rider  and  on  being  wounded  was 
invalided  home.  He  afterwards  returned  to  the  front. 
Trooper  Dodds  is  one  of  the  best-known  motor  cyclists  in  the 
North,  and  winner  in  the  competition  of  the  summer  of  1914 
promoted  by  the  North-Eastern  Automobile  Association.  This 
was  decided  in  North  Yorkshire,  over  difficult  country.] 

I  FANCY  there  are  people  in  England  who  imagine 
that  the  life  of  a  despatch-rider  is  one  long  unbroken 
joy  ride.  They  seem  to  think  that  he  gets  some- 
where near  the  front,  and  spends  all  his  days  careering 
over  beautifully  kept  military  roads  between  head- 
quarters and  the  firing  line,  and  seeing  and  enjoying 
everything  that  goes  on ;  but  I  can  assure  such  people 
that  in  practice  despatch-riding  does  not  work  out 
like  that  at  all. 

I  am  only  a  humble  member  of  the  fraternity,  but 
I  have  had  a  fair  share  of  despatch  work,  and  I  do 
know  that  I  have  not  had  a  single  joy  ride  since  I 
took  the  business  on,  and  I  can  vouch  for  the  fact 
that  beautifully  kept  roads  do  not  exist  anywhere 

256 


AN   ARMOURED   CAR   IN   AMBUSH     257 

near  the  front,  at  any  rate  in  Flanders.  Even  some 
of  the  so-called  roads  have  never  been  roads — they 
were  simply  tracks  to  start  with,  and  when  military 
traffic  had  been  going  over  them  for  some  time  they 
had  lost  all  resemblance  to  roads,  and  you  could 
scarcely  tell  the  difference  between  them  and  the 
ordinary  countryside. 

The  fact  is  that  the  life  of  a  despatch-rider,  though 
exciting  enough  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  any  ordinary 
man,  is  largely  an  endless  battle  amongst  bad  roads, 
bullets  and  shell  fire,  want  of  sleep,  and  the  hundred- 
and-one  other  things  which  often  wreck  the  nerves; 
but  the  life  is  well  worth  living,  all  the  same. 

In  work  like  this  there  is  a  good  deal  of  nerve- 
racking  riding  and  all  sorts  of  difficult  jobs  have  to 
be  tackled.  One  of  the  worst  I  had  to  carry  out 
while  I  was  at  the  front  was  riding  back  to  a  patrol 
which  was  in  our  rear,  and  which  had  been  lost 
sight  of  in  the  strain  and  turmoil  of  a  rapid  retirement. 

The  patrol  had  been  left  at  a  corner  where  there 
were  some  forked  roads,  and  in  order  to  reach  them 
it  was  necessary  to  go  through  a  village. 

The  Germans  were  everywhere  and  keenly  on  the 
look-out  for  a  chance  of  sniping,  so  that  there  was 
plenty  of  excitement  in  the  affair,  especially  as  it 
was  night  and  there  was  a  darkness  which  was 
literally  black. 

This  made  the  task  doubly  dangerous,  for  in 
addition  to  the  ordinary  risks  of  being  shot  there 
was  the  great  danger  of  coming  to  serious  grief  on 
the  road — a  road  which  you  could  feel  but  scarcely 
see.  I  don't  mind  saying  that  when  I  started  in  the 
pitch  darkness  on  this  expedition  I  did  not  feel  any 
too  comfortable. 


258     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

It  is  the  custom  at  such  times  to  ride  without  lights, 
because  lights  serve  as  targets,  but  in  spite  of  this  I 
was  forced  to  light  up,  because  it  would  have  been 
utterly  impossible  to  ride  without  some  sort  of  guide. 

After  a  good  deal  of  trouble  and  a  lot  of  risk  I 
reached  the  village  and  then  I  had  a  most  unpleasant 
shock,  for  a  Belgian  peasant  told  me  that  the  Ger- 
mans were  actually  occupying  some  of  the  houses. 

That  was  a  startling  announcement,  but  the  added 
danger  forced  me  to  set  my  wits  to  work  to  decide 
what  it  was  best  to  do.  At  last  I  determined  to 
make  tracks  down  a  side  street. 

I  was  riding  very  slowly  and  carefully  when  I 
was  pulled  up  short  with  a  sharp  cry  of  "  Halt  " 
and  I  knew  that  a  loaded  rifle  was  covering  me  not 
far  away. 

I  did  halt — I  didn't  need  to  be  told  twice,  not 
knowing  what  fate  had  in  store  for  me;  but  thank 
heaven  I  quickly  found  that  it  was  a  British  sentry 
who  had  spoken. 

I  rapidly  told  him  what  I  was  out  to  do,  and  I 
was  very  glad  to  have  his  help  and  advice. 

The  sentry  told  me  that  the  patrol,  like  wise  men, 
had  acted  on  their  own  initiative  and  had  fallen  back 
on  the  village — and  that  was  joyful  news,  because 
it  meant  that  my  work  was  practically  done. 

Being  greatly  relieved  I  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  tell  the  sentry  that  I  might  have  scooted  past 
him  and  got  clear,  but  my  humour  vanished  when 
another  British  soldier  from  the  darkness  said  grimly, 
"  Yes,  you  might  have  got  past  him,  but  /  should 
have  put  a  bullet  into  you  !  " 

I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  this  smart 
fellow  spoke  the  truth — anyway,  if  he  had  missed 


AN   ARMOURED    CAR   IN   AMBUSH     259 

me  I  should  doubtless  have  been  potted  by  a  chum 
of  his,  because  there  were  four  sentries  posted  at 
short  distances  from  this  place.  I  could  not  see  a 
sign  of  them,  but  of  course  they  had  my  light  as  a 
target  and  they  were  as  keen  as  mustard,  knowing 
that  the  Germans  were  in  the  village. 

There  were  a  good  many  little  thrilling  experiences 
for  all  of  us  which  came  in  as  part  of  the  day's  work, 
and  most  of  them  were  thoroughly  enjoyable — a  few  in 
particular  I  would  not  have  missed  for  worlds.  One 
of  these  was  a  little  jaunt  with  an  armoured  motor-car. 

Incidentally,  this  experience  showed  me  that  we 
have  learnt  a  good  deal  from  the  South  African  War. 
It  is  pretty  common  knowledge  by  this  time  that 
the  Germans  sprang  something  of  a  surprise  on  the 
world  with  their  big  guns;  but  our  own  armoured 
cars  came  on  the  Germans  with  even  more  stunning 
effect.  It  was  the  South  African  War  which  to  a 
great  extent  gave  us  the  most  useful  knowledge  we 
now  possess  of  armoured  cars  and  armoured  trains. 

The  armoured  car  is  a  development  of  the  idea  of 
the  armoured  train,  with  this  enormous  advantage, 
that  you  can  get  your  car  pretty  nearly  anywhere, 
while  the  train  is  limited  in  its  operations  to  the 
lines  on  which  it  runs.  Remarkably  good  motor-car 
work  at  the  front  has  been  done  by  Brigadier-General 
Seely  and  Commander  Sampson.  Some  of  these  cars 
are  extremely  powerful  and  fast,  with  huge  wheels, 
and  in  the  hands  of  skilful  drivers  they  can  overcome 
almost  any  obstacle. 

In  order  to  meet  the  exceptional  demands  which  a 
war  like  this  makes  upon  them  the  cars  have  to  be 
specially  protected  and  strengthened.  The  body  itself 
is  protected  with  toughened  steel,  which  has  so  much 


260     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

resistance  that  bullets  simply  make  no  impression 
on  it,  and  light  guns  can  therefore  be  mounted  be- 
hind the  metal  which  can  do  enormous  execution 
amongst  bodies  of  the  enemy's  riflemen  or  troops 
who  are  not  protected  by  anything  but  rifles.  If 
you  want  excitement,  therefore,  you  can  get  it  to 
the  full  by  being  associated  with  these  machines. 
Whenever  they  go  out  they  simply  look  for  trouble— 
and  they  can  afford  to  do  so,  because  they  despise 
ordinary  cavalry  and  infantry  tactics.  Their  chief 
gain  has  been  Uhlan  patrols,  which  they  have  wiped 
out  with  the  greatest  ease. 

Scouts  bring  in  word  of  enemy  patrols  on  the  road ; 
off  swoop  the  cars  straight  to  the  spot,  and  the  fun 
begins. 

My  own  little  job  was  not  actually  in  an  armoured 
car,  but  accompanying  one.  Very  often,  in  the  case 
of  a  retreat,  the  cars  remain  behind  the  main  line, 
to  do  the  work  of  wiping  out  as  many  of  the  enemy's 
advanced  guards  as  they  can  get  under  fire,  and  an 
affair  of  this  description  took  place  during  the  retreat 
from  Roulers. 

I  happened  to  be  there,  armed  with  my  rifle,  which 
I  carry  in  preference  to  a  revolver,  because  I  have 
found  it  more  useful. 

I  stayed  behind  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  armoured 
car.  This  was  at  a  corner  of  one  of  the  roads,  and  a 
prominent  feature  of  the  district  was  a  brewery,  the 
entrance  to  which  commanded  the  approach  by  road. 

Matters  at  that  particular  time  were  very  lively 
and  the  car  was  swiftly  run  into  the  yard,  where  with 
astonishing  skill  and  speed  it  was  disguised  as  much 
as  possible  and  then  it  was  ready  to  give  the  Germans 
a  surprise. 


AN   ARMOURED   CAR   IN   AMBUSH     261 

I  left  my  machine  round  the  corner,  and  made 
my  way  into  one  of  the  nearest  of  the  houses.  Rushing 
upstairs,  I  entered  a  bedroom  and  went  to  the  window, 
where  I  took  up  a  position  with  my  rifle,  and  kept 
properly  on  the  alert,  for  you  never  knew  from  which 
quarter  a  bullet  would  come  and  settle  your  account 
for  ever. 

There  was  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  enemy 
would  come — and  they  did.  They  came  along  as  if 
they  were  satisfied  that  nothing  could  happen  to 
them — certainly  the  German  body  that  was  making 
its  way  along  the  road  had  no  idea  that  a  disguised 
motor-car  was  ready  to  give  it  a  welcome  as  soon 
as  it  got  within  striking  distance  of  the  entrance 
to  the  brewery.  Being  Germans,  doubtless  their 
thoughts,  when  they  saw  the  brewery,  were  more 
concentrated  on  beer  than  on  the  British  troops  in 
ambush. 

On  the  Germans  came,  and  one  could  not  help 
feeling  how  awful  it  was  that  they  should  be  advanc- 
ing utterly  unsuspectingly  into  a  perfect  death-trap. 

From  behind  my  bedroom  window,  rifle  in  hand,  I 
watched  them  come  up  to  their  doom.  They  got 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  innocent-looking  brewery 
entrance  and  to  the  houses  and  other  places  where 
the  unseen  rifles  were  covering  them;  then,  just  at 
the  right  moment,  the  maxims  from  the  armoured 
car  rattled  and  the  rifles  kept  them  company. 

The  German  ranks  were  shattered  and  scattered 
instantly.  It  was  a  swift  and  destructive  cannonade 
and  the  Germans  went  down  in  the  fatal  roadway 
just  like  ninepins.  I  do  not  think  I  exaggerate  when 
I  say  that  practically  the  whole  of  the  enemy's 
advanced  guard  was  wiped  out  in  a  few  moments. 


262     SOLDIERS*    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

This  little  affair  was  as  short  as  it  was  brilliant 
and  decisive,  and  almost  before  there  was  time  to 
realise  fully  what  had  happened  the  car  was  stripped 
of  its  disguise  and  was  triumphantly  driven  out  of 
the  brewery  yard  and  back  to  the  British  lines. 

When  I  saw  the  car  going  I  took  it  as  a  signal  that 
I  had  better  make  tracks  myself,  so  I  hurried  away 
from  the  bedroom,  got  clear  of  the  house,  jumped 
on  to  my  machine,  and  lost  no  time  in  following  it. 

This  fine  performance,  typical  of  a  great  number 
of  such  deeds  done  in  the  war  by  resourceful  men  of 
which  nothing  has  been  heard  and  perhaps  never 
will  be,  strikes  me  as  being  a  very  good  illustration 
of  doing  exactly  those  things  which  the  enemy  does 
not  expect  you  to  do.  Personally,  I  have  always 
made  a  point  of  putting  this  principle  into  practice. 
If  the  enemy  is  waiting  for  you  to  take  the  highroad, 
the  obvious  thing,  it  seems  to  me,  is  to  take  to  the 
fields,  especially  as  in  bad  weather,  in  a  country  like 
Flanders,  there  is  very  little  difference  between  the 
fields  and  the  roads. 

There  is  one  interesting  point  which  I  may  men- 
tion, and  it  is  that  so  far  I  have  had  no  difficulty 
in  finding  petrol.  Nearly  all  the  Belgian  farmers 
use  gas-engines,  and  their  stores  are  very  useful  for 
motor  cycles.  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  never  saw 
any  want  of  willingness  on  the  part  of  Belgian  farmers 
to  help  the  fighters  who  are  doing  their  best  to  get 
the  country  back  for  them. 

At  present  I  am  not  a  bit  useful  as  a  fighting  man, 
because  when  I  was  going  into  the  trenches  I  heard 
the  ping  of  a  German  bullet  and  found  that  blood 
was  running  down  my  arm. 

When  I  was  actually  struck  I  felt  only  a  numb 


AN   ARMOURED   CAR   IN   AMBUSH     263 

sensation,  and  did  not  for  some  time  know  what  had 
happened;  but  later  it  was  discovered  that  the 
bullet  had  struck  me  between  the  wrist  and  elbow 
of  the  right  arm  and  had  gone  clean  through,  leaving 
a  hole  on  each  side  of  the  arm. 

Strange  though  it  may  seem,  I  felt  little  pain  at 
any  time,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  one  of  the  bones 
of  the  arm  was  broken,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  that 
this  wound — and  there  have  been  an  enormous 
number  like  it  since  the  war  began — is  making  a 
first-class  recovery,  and  I  shall  soon  be  all  right 
again. 

A  man  does  not  go  to  war  for  fun,  but  there  is  a 
bright  side  to  the  grim  business,  as  I  found  when  I 
reached  a  Belgian  hospital.  I  spent  three  very  com- 
fortable days  there,  and  when  I  was  sent  off  to 
England  the  nurse  who  was  attending  me  very 
gravely  made  me  a  little  present,  which  I  as  gravely 
accepted.  She  paid  me  three-halfpence  !  I  did  not 
know  what  it  meant,  but  I  concluded  that  I  had 
received  the  Belgian's  rate  of  daily  pay  as  a  soldier, 
and  his  keep.  I  was  perfectly  satisfied,  and  I  hope 
my  excellent  nurse  was  the  same. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

EXPLOITS    OF    THE    LONDON    SCOTTISH 

["  Eye- Witness,"  in  his  descriptive  account  of  November  4th, 
dealing  with  the  first  phase  of  the  desperate  fight  for  Ypres, 
said  that  a  special  feature  of  the  battle  was  that  it  formed  an 
epoch  in  the  military  history  of  the  British  Empire,  and  marked 
the  first  time  that  a  complete  unit  of  our  Territorial  Army  has 
been  thrown  into  the  fight  alongside  its  sister  units  of  the 
Regulars.  That  unit  was  the  14th  (County  of  London)  Battalion 
London  Regiment,  better  known  as  the  London  Scottish.  Its 
ranks  contained  many  prominent  men  who  gave  up  everything 
at  their  country's  call  and  went  to  the  front.  Amongst  them 
was  Mr.  J.  E.  Carr,  Managing  Director  of  Scremerston  Colliery, 
Northumberland,  a  well-known  breeder  of  Border  Leicester 
sheep,  a  keen  rider  to  hounds  and  a  thoroughly  good  sports- 
man. Private  Carr  served  with  the  London  Scottish  until  he 
was  wounded  and  invalided  home  and  it  is  his  story  which  is 
here  retold.] 

IT  is  very  difficult  to  keep  within  denned  limits  the 
varied  experiences  that  are  crowded  into  a  few 
months  at  the  front  in  a  war  which  is  waged  on  such 
a  vast  scale  as  the  present  conflict.  Every  day  has 
its  own  fresh  and  particular  excitements  which  are 
worth  remembering,  and  one  can  scarcely  pick  out, 
off-hand,  the  most  startling  or  interesting  phases 
of  the  campaigning.  However,  the  earliest  impres- 
sions undoubtedly  cling  most  tenaciously,  and  I  have 
vivid  recollections  of  the  thrill  I  experienced  when 
our  transport  swung  to  her  moorings  and  the  London 
Scottish  disembarked  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel. 

264 


EXPLOITS   OF  THE   LONDON   SCOTTISH    265 

I  should  like  to  say  here  that  the  London  Scottish 
have  been  the  subject  of  a  good  deal  of  comment, 
mostly  favourable,  I  am  glad  to  know;  but  there 
has  been  undue  exaltation.  The  blame  for  this 
certainly  does  not  rest  with  the  London  Scottish, 
but  in  other  perfectly  well-meaning  quarters. 

I  am  proud  indeed  to  belong  to  the  London 
Scottish,  because  they  are  good  boys  to  be  amongst, 
so  good  that  there  was  no  reason  whatever  why 
people  should  have  expressed  surprise  that  the  first 
Territorials  to  go  into  action  did  so  well.  I  don't 
think  there  was  any  reason  for  astonishment,  for  the 
London  Scottish  had  been  a  well-trained  body  of 
Volunteers  before  the  Territorial  system  came  into 
being.  And  if  they  pulled  through,  as  they  did, 
when  the  actual  fighting  began,  do  not  let  it  be  for- 
gotten that  they  had  some  glorious  examples  to 
follow.  On  their  left  and  on  their  right  were  some 
of  the  very  finest  soldiers  in  the  world,  and  it  was 
for  the  London  Scottish  to  prove  that  they  were 
worthy  of  fighting  with  these  truly  splendid  fellows. 
Troops  like  the  Coldstream  Guards,  the  Scots  Guards, 
the  Black  Watch  and  the  Cameron  Highlanders  are 
men  with  whom  it  is  indeed  an  honour  to  be  asso- 
ciated. 

Our  landing  on  the  Continent  was  an  event  which 
I  shall  remember  all  my  life.  It  meant  that  we  were 
many  miles  nearer  to  the  band  of  heroes  who  had 
held  the  Germans  up  at  Mons  and  had  completely 
disarranged  a  whole  plan  of  campaign.  Whenever 
I  meet  a  man  who  fought  in  that  greatest  of  rear- 
guard actions  I  want  to  take  off  my  hat  to  him. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  war  began  that  we  found 
ourselves  on  the  lines  of  communication  and  began 


266     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

to  feel  that  we  were  really  bearing  a  hand  in  the 
things  that  mattered.  This  was  in  September,  and 
the  weather  being  good  we  found  it  no  great  hard- 
ship to  guard  railways,  escort  prisoners,  run  up 
ammunition  for  the  fighting  lines  and  do  any  odd 
job  that  came  along.  There  was  not  a  man  amongst 
us  who  did  not  put  his  back  into  the  business,  realising 
that  it  was  all  a  part  of  the  tremendous  game  that 
was  being  played,  monotonous  and  unexciting  though 
the  duties  might  be,  and  with  every  day  that  passed 
we  got  fitter  and  keener  and  better  able  to  meet  the 
heavy  calls  that  came  upon  us  later.  We  felt  that 
we  were  really  "  in  "  and  part  of  the  great  adventure. 
In  various  ways  we  did  a  good  deal  of  wandering, 
and  some  of  us  went  as  far  south  as  Nantes. 

This  was  about  harvest  time,  and  we  saw  the  old 
men  of  France  and  the  women  and  the  boys  gathering 
in  the  sheaves.  Later  on  we  saw  even  the  women 
ploughing,  and  very  good  work  they  did.  One  thing 
which  particularly  astonished  us  was  their  courage 
in  working  on  the  land  quite  close  up  to  the  fighting 
line.  They  were  often  well  within  shell  fire,  but 
they  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  least  disturbed.  I 
suppose  they  thought  that  if  their  husbands  and 
sons  and  brothers  could  fight  for  France  at  rifle  and 
bayonet  range  they  could  go  on  working  for  their 
country  in  spite  of  a  stray  shell  or  two. 

A  few  weeks  later  we  moved  up  to  the  firing  line, 
and  then  we  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  how 
gloriously  the  Scottish  Regular  troops  were  doing 
their  work  and  maintaining  the  splendid  traditions 
of  the  Highland  regiments. 

People  have  become  so  used  to  amazing  happenings 
in  this  war  that  it  is  not  easy  to  realise  that  only  a 


EXPLOITS   OF  THE   LONDON   SCOTTISH     267 

very  few  months  ago  the  mere  sight  of  an  aeroplane 
was  a  novelty,  and  it  was  a  thrill  indeed  for  us  when, 
near  Bethune,  we  had  a  splendid  view  of  a  fight  in 
the  air  between  British,  French  and  German  airmen. 
The  German,  in  a  machine  which  looked  exactly  like 
an  enormous  bird  in  the  sky,  came  scouting  over  our 
lines,  to  find  out  what  was  going  on.  The  mere  sight 
of  him  was  enough  to  fetch  along  a  British  'plane  and 
a  Frenchman  followed.  This  happened  on  a  clear, 
peaceful  Sunday  morning,  and  it  was  truly  wonderful 
to  see  how  the  three  machines  were  manoeuvred  to 
get  the  top  position  and  so  spell  doom  to  the  lowest 
'plane.  By  extraordinary  daring  and  skill,  and  be- 
cause his  very  life  hung  in  the  balance,  the  German 
managed  to  get  away,  in  spite  of  the  most  desperate 
efforts  of  his  opponents  to  bag  him.  But  I  don't 
think  he  would  escape  to-day,  when  the  British  and 
French  airmen  have  so  fully  established  their  superi- 
ority over  the  German  flyers  and  when  it  has  been 
proved  that  the  machines  of  the  Allies  are  far 
better  than  any  of  the  craft  that  the  German  airmen 
use. 

One  of  our  first  experiences  of  real  fighting  came 
when  we  were  ordered  to  charge  at  Messines.  I  do 
not  care  to  say  much  about  that  charge,  because  I 
think  too  much  has  been  said  of  it  already;  so  I 
will  not  go  beyond  saying  that  it  was  hot  and  sanguin- 
ary work  with  the  bayonet  and  that  we  lost  many 
good  fellows.  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  London 
Scottish  got  too  much  praise  for  Messines,  and  they 
are  the  first  to  admit  that;  but  this  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  correspondents  and  others  spread  themselves 
out  on  the  charge  and  gave  special  attention  to  the 
matter  because  of  the  fact  that  up  to  that  time 


268     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

practically  nothing  had  been  heard  of  Territorials 
in  action. 

The  praise  that  was  given  to  the  regiment  had  the 
effect  of  making  us  rather  unpopular  with  the  Regulars, 
and  naturally  enough,  too,  seeing  that  they  had  been 
constantly  doing  the  same  sort  of  work  ever  since 
the  beginning  of  the  war.  It  was  pride  enough  for 
us  to  be  in  the  same  brigade  as  the  Coldstreamers, 
the  Scots  Guards,  the  Black  Watch  and  the  Camerons, 
and  to  feel  that  we  had  done  just  what  we  were  told 
to  do.  It  was,  of  course,  a  source  of  great  satisfaction 
to  us  afterwards  to  be  congratulated  by  General 
Munro  on  what  he  was  good  enough  to  term  our 
"  steadiness  as  a  battalion."  Now  that  is  all  I  am 
going  to  say  about  the  charge  of  the  London  Scottish 
at  Messines. 

Speaking  generally  the  fighting  from  November 
until  the  time  I  was  wounded  can  be  divided  into 
two  distinct  parts,  the  actions  around  Ypres  and  the 
affairs  at  La  Bassee.  At  Ypres  about  fifty  men  of 
our  regiment  were  in  the  city  during  the  siege,  and 
a  very  exciting  time  we  had.  Shells  were  constantly 
bursting  all  around  and  no  matter  where  the  people 
were  they  did  not  seem  to  be  able  to  keep  clear  of 
danger.  Even  the  cellars,  in  which  large  numbers  of 
men  and  women  and  children  sought  refuge,  were  at 
times  blown  in  and  there  were  some  very  distressing 
and  unpleasant  sights.  Personally,  I  was  uncommonly 
lucky,  because  I  escaped  being  hurt. 

I  had  the  good  fortune  to  sleep  for  two  nights  in 
the  beautiful  and  famous  Cloth  Hall,  of  which  the 
story  is  told  that  it  was  particularly  spared  by  the 
German  artillery  because  the  Kaiser  meant  to  enter 
it  in  state  at  the  head  of  his  victorious  troops.  But 


EXPLOITS   OF  THE  LONDON   SCOTTISH    269 

when  I  was  in  it  the  shells  came  pounding  on  the 
walls  and  roof  of  the  hall,  doing  grievous  damage, 
though  our  own  men  had  the  good  luck  to  escape. 
Not  so  lucky  were  some  men  of  the  Suffolk  Regiment 
who  followed  us,  for  one  afternoon  a  huge  shell  came 
through  and  burst  and  killed  five  of  the  Suffolks  and 
wounded  a  number  of  other  men  of  that  fine  regiment. 

So  much  has  been  said  of  the  enormous  German 
shells  which  have  become  known  as  Jack  Johnsons 
that  people  have  almost  ceased  to  be  affected  by 
their  performances ;  but  nothing  that  I  have  heard 
or  read  conveys  any  real  idea  of  the  extraordinarily 
destructive  nature  of  these  awful  engines  of  war 
when  they  explode — and  that,  luckily,  does  not 
always  happen.  One  afternoon,  however,  we  counted 
no  fewer  than  thirty  of  them  which  did  explode,  and 
the  results  were  absolutely  devastating. 

When  the  Germans  really  set  to  work  to  bombard 
Ypres,  the  Cloth  Hall  and  the  splendid  cathedral 
were  soon  practically  destroyed;  but  one  of  the 
most  noticeable  things  in  connection  with  this  de- 
struction was  that  many  sacred  objects  were  un- 
damaged whilst  there  was  ruin  all  around  them. 
Take  the  case  of  the  crucifix  of  Ypres  Cathedral — 
it  is  literally  true  that  this  was  found  entire  and 
upright  amongst  such  general  ruin  that  it  seemed 
as  if  only  a  miracle  could  have  saved  it.  In  several 
other  places  I  saw  crucifixes  hanging  uninjured  on 
walls  of  houses  although  the  structures  themselves 
had  been  practically  wrecked.  On  the  other  hand, 
while  we  were  in  the  trenches  I  saw  a  little  nickel 
crucifix  with  a  bullet-hole  right  through  it. 

With  the  King's  Royal  Rifles  on  their  right,  and 
fired  by  their  glorious  example,  the  London  Scottish 


270     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

were  in  some  furious  fighting  in  the  earlier  days  of 
November,  and  the  coming  of  Christmas  brought  more 
hot  work.  On  December  22nd  we  marched  about 
twenty-six  miles  with  the  brigade,  and  the  Cold- 
streamers,  gallant  as  ever,  went  straight  into  action 
after  their  arrival.  They  did  fine  work  that  day, 
and  paid  for  it  accordingly.  There  followed  a  rest 
at  Bethune  and  then  we  went  into  more  trouble  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Givenchy. 

Very  little  of  what  may  be  called  spectacular 
fighting  was  seen  hereabouts ;  it  was  mostly  trench 
work,  and  this  was  all  the  more  difficult  because  the 
German  trenches  were  so  close  to  our  own,  and  the 
real  old-fashioned  way  of  conducting  a  battle  was  out 
of  the  question.  But  all  the  same  we  got  some 
variations,  and  one  of  these  was  a  fight  for  a  brick- 
field which  was  a  good  hot  performance  while  it  lasted. 

At  this  period  we  made  a  change  on  the  usual 
form  of  trench  by  lining  our  own  trenches  with 
bricks,  which  were  handy  for  the  purpose.  These 
trenches  were  more  comfortable  than  the  general 
type,  but  they  were  more  dangerous,  because  when 
a  shell  burst  near  us  the  bricks  splintered,  so  that 
the  flying  bricks  had  to  be  added  to  the  dangers  and 
discomforts  of  the  flying  metal  fragments. 

One  of  the  brick  splinters  struck  my  hand  and 
poisoned  it,  and  another  unwelcome  attention  that 
was  paid  to  me  was  a  piece  of  shrapnel  in  the 
back  of  the  neck;  but  these  were  really  very 
minor  details  compared  with  the  injuries  that  were 
received  by  other  members  of  the  London  Scottish, 
and  I  am  not  for  a  moment  complaining,  nor  can  I, 
for  when  I  came  home  my  company  had  only  twenty 
left  out  of  119.  There  had  been  the  casualties  in 


EXPLOITS   OF  THE   LONDON   SCOTTISH     271 

the  charge  and  in  other  affairs,  and  a  number  of 
men  had  been  killed  and  wounded  in  the  trenches. 

At  Givenchy  we  had  to  endure  as  best  we  could 
that  most  unpleasant  engine  of  war  which  is  called 
the  trench  mortar.  This  affects  high-angle  fire  and 
plumps  a  shell  into  the  trenches  when  the  aim  is 
good.  One  shell  dropped  into  a  trench  of  ours 
and  exploded,  killing  one  man  and  wounding  five 
others — a  round  half-dozen  fine  fellows  as  toll  to  a 
single  German  shot. 

There  were  the  snipers,  too,  pests  who  are  intensely 
disliked  by  the  British  soldier.  These  fellows  find 
a  lodging  in  what  seems  to  be  an  impossible  sort  of 
place,  often  enough  high  up  a  tree,  and  being  well 
supplied  with  food  and  ammunition  they  can  go  on 
potting  for  a  long  time  without  going  down  from 
their  perch.  It  was  always  matter  for  rejoicing 
when  one  of  these  queer  birds  was  winged. 

I  spent  Christmas  in  the  trenches,  with  the  boys. 
It  is  odd  to  be  talking  about  Christmas  at  this  time 
of  the  year,  but  that  season  was  an  outstanding 
feature  of  the  experiences  of  the  London  Scottish, 
just  as  the  New  Year  was.  Christmas  Day  was  com- 
paratively comfortable  because  there  was  a  lull  in 
the  fighting.  New  Year's  Day  was  unforgettable  to 
those  who  saw  it  in  and  did  their  best  to  keep  up 
the  national  custom. 

I  think  that  of  all  the  strange  incidents  that  have 
been  recorded  in  connection  with  this  war,  and  they 
have  been  many — and  some  of  them  have  proved 
how  soon  soldiers  become  impervious  to  the  most 
terrible  happenings  of  campaigning — one  of  the 
strangest  must  have  been  the  sight  we  saw  on  New 
Year's  Eve. 


272     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

When  the  New  Year  actually  came  in  we  fired 
three  rounds  rapid,  and  the  pipes  of  the  Black  Watch 
rose  on  the  night,  while  our  own  voices  broke  into 
"  Auld  lang  syne."  Wonderful  and  affecting  it  was 
to  hear  the  pipes  and  the  dear  old  tune  and  many 
of  us  were  deeply  moved. 

The  effect  on  the  Germans  was  very  curious. 
Apparently  they  judged  from  the  sounds  of  the 
pipes  and  the  roll  of  the  song  that  the  Scots  were 
going  to  pay  them  a  special  visit  with  the  bayonet, 
and  by  way  of  being  ready  for  it  and  giving  us  a 
welcome,  they  sent  up  star-lights,  and  these,  bursting 
in  the  air,  gave  a  sinister  illumination  of  the  land- 
scape and  would  have  shown  us  up  if  we  had  had 
in  mind  the  purpose  of  an  assault  on  the  German 
trenches.  But  we  had  no  intention  of  letting  the 
New  Year  in  upon  them  in  such  an  unfriendly  manner, 
although  later  in  the  day  we  were  of  necessity  hard 
at  it  again  in  the  ordinary  way  of  firing. 

From  day  to  day  the  London  Scottish  kept  at  it, 
doing  their  best,  I  hope ;  then,  on  January  25th  a  spell 
of  uncommonly  hard  work  came  along.  The  Cold- 
streamers,  who  had  held  out  gloriously  and  success- 
fully against  great  odds,  had  to  withdraw  from  their 
trenches  owing  to  an  overwhelming  attack  by  the 
enemy.  For  the  time  being  the  Germans  had  scored 
and  no  doubt  they  were  exulting  in  their  best  manner, 
but  the  London  Scottish  were  sent  up  to  reinforce 
the  Coldstreamers — and  proud  they  were  to  do  it. 
Later  in  the  afternoon  the  Black  Watch,  with  the 
Sussex  Regiment  and  the  Royal  Rifles,  came  up  too, 
and  the  combination  proved  too  much  for  the  Ger- 
mans, who,  after  a  brilliant  attack,  were  sent  flying 
back  to  their  own  trenches. 


EXPLOITS   OF  THE   LONDON   SCOTTISH    273 

I  have  heard  that  many  old  and  young  Germans 
have  been  taken  prisoners  at  various  parts  of  the 
immense  battle-front  of  the  Allies ;  but  those  that  I 
saw  pass  through  our  lines  were  neither  very  old  nor 
very  young.  Occasionally  we  observed  signs  that 
they  required  a  good  lot  of  leading,  that  is  to  say, 
"  leading  "  from  behind ;  but  generally  speaking  they 
seemed  to  be  the  best  men  that  Germany  had  and 
on  the  whole  they  were  undoubtedly  good  fighters. 

While  talking  of  German  prisoners  I  am  reminded  of 
a  particularly  ugly  incident.  When  I  was  taken  to  the 
hospital  I  was  with  a  number  of  German  prisoners. 

The  hospital  rule  is  that  everything  shall  be  taken 
away  from  the  patient  until  the  time  comes  for  him 
to  be  discharged.  Well,  when  one  of  these  prisoners 
was  searched  I  learned  to  my  amazement,  disgust 
and  anger,  that  he  carried  with  him  a  bomb  which 
was  powerful  enough  to  blow  up  the  whole  place — 
but  prompt  steps  were  taken  to  prevent  him  from 
making  any  use  of  it.  How  on  earth  he  had  got  so 
far  from  the  lines  with  the  deadly  thing  I  cannot 
understand;  but  he  had  it  with  him  all  right. 

We  got  a  good  deal  of  amusement  and  help  from 
a  new  set  of  "  Ten  Commandments  for  Soldiers  in 
the  Field,"  which  were  duly  but  not  officially  pub- 
lished. I  will  quote  one  or  two  by  way  of  showing 
their  character  and  indicating  that  incorrigible 
British  cheerfulness  which  the  German,  with  all  his 
"  culture,"  cannot  understand.  Number  Three  ran  : 
'  Thou  shalt  not  use  profane  language  except  under 
extraordinary  circumstances,  such  as  seeing  thy 
comrade  shot  or  getting  petrol  in  thy  tea."  Number 
Four  was  worded  :  "  Remember  that  the  soldier's 
week  consists  of  seven  days.  Six  days  shalt  thou 
T 


274     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

labour  and  do  all  thy  work,  and  on  the  seventh  do 
all  thy  odd  jobs  !  "  "  Honour  thy  King  and 
country,"  was  the  Fifth.  "  Keep  thy  rifle  oiled,  and 
shoot  straight,  in  order  that  thy  days  may  be  long 
upon  the  land  the  enemy  giveth  thee."  Then  we 
had,  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal  thy  neighbour's  kit,"  and 
"  Thou  shalt  not  kill— time  !  "  By  Number  Nine  it 
was  enjoined,  "  Thou  shalt  not  bear  false  witness 
against  thy  comrade,  but  preserve  discreet  silence 
on  his  outgoings  and  incomings."  Last  of  all  came 
Number  Ten,  full  of  a  wonderful  hope  for  the  lowly  : 
;'  Thou  shalt  not  covet  thy  Sergeant's  post,  nor  the 
Corporal's,  nor  the  Staff-Major's,  but  do  thy  duty 
and  by  dint  of  perseverance  rise  to  the  high  position 
of  Field-Marshal." 

(This  is  one  of  the  first  detailed  stories  to  be 
told  of  some  of  the  achievements  of  the  London 
Scottish  at  the  front,  and  its  modest  vein  is  in  keeping 
with  the  general  point  of  view  of  the  members  of 
this  distinguished  corps.  It  has  been  for  others,  not 
of  the  London  Scottish,  to  tell  us  something  of  what 
the  regiment  really  did  at  Messines  and  elsewhere  in 
those  early  days  of  the  Ypres  fighting  on  which  such 
vast  issues  depended.  What  happened  at  Messines 
was  this  :  The  regiment  was  in  reserve  when  un- 
expectedly the  order  came  to  hurry  up  to  the  sup- 
port of  the  hard-pressed  Regular  troops,  who  were 
being  fiercely  assailed  by  very  much  superior  German 
forces.  Crowding  on  to  motor-buses  the  London 
Scottish  were  hurried  along  in  the  course  of  the 
afternoon  and  while  some  of  them  spent  the  night 
in  deserted  cottages  others  bivouacked  in  the  streets, 
waiting  for  daylight. 


EXPLOITS   OF  THE  LONDON   SCOTTISH    275 

After  much  marching  and  wandering,  the  zone  of 
fire  was  entered,  and  the  fine  battalion  which  not 
many  weeks  before  had  marched  along  London 
streets  after  being  embodied  made  acquaintance  with 
the  German  shells  and  got  ready  to  show  what  the 
British  Territorials  could  do  with  the  rifle  and  the 
bayonet. 

The  regiment  was  amused  and  interested  in  the 
antics  of  a  windmill  the  sails  of  which  turned  con- 
stantly and  oddly,  although  there  was  no  wind.  It 
was  not  until  later  that  the  phenomenon  was  ex- 
plained and  that  was  when  the  windmill  was  visited 
and  a  German  spy  was  caught  in  the  act  of  signalling, 
by  means  of  the  sails,  the  position  and  movements 
of  the  British  troops. 

It  was  at  Hollebecke  and  at  Messines,  between 
Ypres  and  Warneton,  that  the  British  lines  were 
hard  pressed  owing  to  the  determined  attempts  of 
the  Germans  to  break  through  and  hack  their  way 
to  Calais,  and  it  was  here  that  the  London  Scottish 
went  to  support  the  Cavalry  Brigade  who  were 
holding  the  trenches. 

Forming  up  under  the  crest  of  a  hill  they  advanced 
over  the  crest  and  found  themselves  right  in  the 
battle  line.  Hurrying  down  the  slope,  struggling  over 
heavy  ground  which  was  made  all  the  harder  because 
of  beet  crops,  the  regiment  went  into  a  most  destruc- 
tive artillery  and  rifle  and  machine-gun  fire. 

Many  a  splendid  fellow  was  shot  down  before  he 
could  use  his  own  rifle,  and  others  were  wounded; 
but  nothing  could  stop  the  advance.  By  short 
rushes,  and  taking  cover,  the  men  in  time  reached 
the  trenches  and  had  to  encounter  an  overwhelming 
assault  of  Germans  with  the  bayonet. 


276     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Now  it  was  that  a  wonderful  and  splendid  thing 
was  done,  for  these  Territorials,  fresh  from  civil  life, 
hurled  themselves  with  the  bayonet  upon  the  finest 
troops  of  Germany.  They  were  thrown  back.  Again 
they  charged,  only  to  be  driven  off  once  more;  but 
the  regiment  was  not  to  be  denied  or  beaten  and 
with  a  final  furious  rush  the  Germans  were  scattered 
and  the  day  was  won  for  the  British.  No  wonder 
that  Colonel  J.  H.  Scott,  late  of  the  Gordon  High- 
landers and  formerly  adjutant  of  the  London  Scottish, 
wrote  on  hearing  the  glorious  news  :  "  Hurrah  for 
the  London  Scottish  !  From  my  knowledge  of  them 
I  knew  they  would  do  it  !  ") 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  ROUT  OF  THE  PRUSSIAN  GUARD  AT  YPRES 

[The  official  writers  have  told  us  of  the  almost  superhuman 
efforts  made  by  the  Germans  to  break  through  to  Calais  so  that 
they  might,  from  that  place,  either  raid  or  bombard  England. 
For  a  whole  month  a  little  British  army  round  Ypres  held  its 
ground  against  the  repeated  onslaughts  of  overwhelming 
German  hosts.  These  actions  were  divided  into  two  phases,  the 
first  lasting  from  October  20th  to  November  2nd,  and  the  second 
from  November  3rd  to  17th.  German  infantry  of  the  Line 
having  failed  to  win  success,  the  vaunted  Prussian  Guard  was 
hurried  up,  and,  encouraged  by  the  presence  of  the  braggart 
Most  High  War  Lord  himself,  hurled  itself  in  frenzy  against 
the  British  troops,  only  to  be  thrown  back  and  broken.  This 
crushing  of  the  crack  corps  of  Prussia  was  a  bitter  blow  to  the 
Kaiser  and  the  German  people,  who  believed  it  to  be  invincible. 
In  these  unexampled  contests  the  Glorious  Seventh  Infantry 
Division  bore  the  brunt  of  battle,  and  the  tale  of  the  first  phase 
is  told  by  Private  H.  J.  Polley,  2nd  Battalion  Bedfordshire 
Regiment.  Lieutenant-General  Sir  H.  S.  Rawlinson,  com- 
manding the  Division,  said  in  an  order :  "  You  have  been 
called  to  take  a  conspicuous  part  in  one  of  the  severest  struggles 
of  the  war.  .  .  .  The  Seventh  Division  has  gained  for  itself  a 
reputation  for  stubborn  valour  and  endurance  in  defence." 
When  the  Glorious  Seventh  was  withdrawn  from  the  luring  line 
only  forty -four  officers  were  left  out  of  400  who  had  sailed  from 
England,  and  only  2,336  out  of  12,000  men.] 

ALL  the  world  knows  now  how  furiously  the  Germans 
tried  to  hack  their  way  through  to  Calais,  so  that 
they  could  have  their  fling  at  the  hated  English. 
It  is  known  too  that  they  were  held  and  hurled  back. 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  something  of  the  way  in 
which  this  was  done,  for  I  belong  to  the  Bedford- 

277 


278     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

shire  Regiment,  the  old  16th  Foot,  and  the  Bedfords 
were  part  of  the  Glorious  Seventh  Division,  and  did 
their  share  in  keeping  back  the  German  forces,  which 
included  the  Prussian  Guards,  the  Kaiser's  pet  men. 
They  had  been  rushed  up  to  this  position  because 
it  was  thought  that  no  troops  could  stand  against 
them. 

These  idols  of  the  German  nation  are  picked  men 
and  brave  fellows,  and  at  that  time  had  an  absolute 
belief  in  their  own  invincibility;  but  events  proved 
that  they  were  no  match  for  the  British  Guards  and 
the  rest  of  the  British  troops  who  fought  them  at 
Ypres,  and  practically  wiped  them  out.  I  saw  these 
Prussian  Guards  from  Berlin  mown  down  by  our 
artillery,  machine-gun  and  rifle  fire,  and  I  saw  them 
lying  dead  in  solid  masses — walls  of  corpses. 

The  Kaiser  had  planned  to  enter  Ypres  as  a  con- 
queror, at  the  head  of  his  Guards ;  but  he  hurried  off 
a  beaten  man,  leaving  his  slaughtered  Guards  in 
heaps. 

Originally  in  the  1st  Battalion  of  the  Bedfords,  I 
later  went  into  the  2nd,  and  I  was  serving  with  the 
2nd  in  South  Africa  when  the  European  War  broke 
out.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  nearly  all  the 
battalions  which  formed  the  Seventh  Division  came 
from  foreign  service — India,  Egypt,  Africa  and  else- 
where— which  meant  that  many  of  the  men  of  the 
Seventh  had  seen  active  service  and  were  veteran 
fighters.  They  had  not  learned  their  warfare  at 
peace  manoeuvres  in  Germany.  Our  Division  con- 
sisted of  the  1st  Grenadier  Guards,  the  2nd  Scots 
Guards,  the  2nd  Border,  2nd  Gordon  Highlanders, 
2nd  Bedfordshire,  2nd  Yorkshire,  2nd  Royal  Scots 
Fusiliers,  2nd  Wiltshire,  2nd  Royal  West  Surrey, 


ROUT   OF  THE   PRUSSIAN   GUARD     279 

2nd  Royal  Warwickshire,  1st  Royal  Welsh  Fusiliers, 
1st  South  Staffordshire,  and  the  Northumberland 
Hussars ;  and  we  had  a  pom-pom  detachment  and 
horse,  field  and  garrison  artillery.  We  were  under 
Major-General  Sir  T.  Capper,  D.S.O. 

We  had  been  sent  to  help  the  Naval  Division  at 
Antwerp,  and  early  in  October  we  landed  at  Zee- 
brugge — the  only  division  to  land  at  that  port.  But 
we  were  not  there  long,  for  we  soon  learned  that  we 
were  too  late,  and  that  Antwerp  had  fallen.  We  were 
sorry,  but  there  was  no  time  for  moping,  and  we  were 
quickly  on  the  move  to  the  quaint  old  city  of  Bruges, 
where  we  were  billeted  for  a  night.  Sir  Harry 
Rawlinson  had  moved  his  headquarters  from  Bruges 
to  Ostend,  so  next  day  we  marched  towards  Ostend 
and  took  up  outpost.  Then  we  had  a  forced  march 
back  to  Bruges,  and  from  Bruges  we  started  march- 
ing, but  we  did  not  know  where  we  were  going  till 
we  got  to  the  city  of  Ypres. 

So  far  we  had  not  had  any  fighting.  We  had  been 
marching  and  marching,  first  to  one  place,  then  to 
another,  constantly  expecting  to  come  into  action, 
and  very  nearly  doing  so,  for  the  Germans  were 
swarming  all  over  the  countryside.  We  had  to  be 
content  with  being  on  outpost  and  guarding  bridges, 
and  so  on  —  hard  and  necessary  work,  we  knew ; 
but  we  wanted  something  more  thrilling,  something 
bigger — and  we  eventually  got  it. 

There  was  practically  only  the  Seventh  Division 
available  for  anything  that  turned  up.  The  North- 
umberland Hussars  were  able  to  give  a  very  good 
account  of  themselves,  and  were,  I  believe,  the 
first  Yeomanry  corps  to  go  into  action.  The  few 
Uhlans  I  saw  while  I  was  at  the  front  had  been 


280     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

taken  prisoners  by  these  Hussars,  who  brought  them 
in,  lances  and  all.  But  there  is  very  little  to  say 
about  cavalry  work;  it  was  mostly  a  matter  for  the 
infantry,  and,  of  course,  the  artillery — the  wonderful 
British  gunners  who  have  punished  the  Germans  so 
severely  whenever  they  have  met  them. 

While  we  were  around  Ypres,  waiting  for  the 
Germans  to  come  and  break  through,  we  heard  a 
good  deal,  indirectly,  of  what  was  going  to  happen 
to  us  and  to  England.  The  Germans  had  all  sorts 
of  monster  guns,  and  with  these  they  were  going  to 
bombard  England  across  the  narrow  Channel  when 
they  got  to  the  French  coast,  and  they  were  going  to 
work  all  sorts  of  miracles  with  their  airships  and 
aeroplanes. 

We  soon  heard,  too,  that  the  Kaiser  himself  was 
in  the  field;  but  the  only  effect  of  that  information 
was  to  make  us  more  keen  to  show  what  we  could 
do.  Truth  to  tell,  we  were  far  from  being  impressed 
by  the  presence  of  either  the  Kaiser  or  his  vaunted 
Guards.  We  were  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  had  a 
sublime  belief  in  Sir  John  French  and  all  his  staff 
and  our  own  officers. 

It  was  on  October  31st — which  has  been  called  the 
decisive  day  of  the  fight  for  Ypres,  and  which  was 
certainly  a  most  terrible  day  in  every  way — that  the 
Seventh  Division  was  ordered  to  attack  the  German 
position.  The  weather  was  very  fine,  clear  and 
sunny,  and  our  spirits  were  in  keeping  with  it.  We 
were  thankful  to  be  on  the  move,  because  we  had 
had  nearly  three  weeks  in  the  trenches,  and  had  been 
billeted  in  all  sorts  of  queer  places — above  and  below 
ground — under  an  everlasting  shell  fire,  which  became 
unendurable  and  was  thoroughly  nerve-destroying. 


ROUT   OF  THE   PRUSSIAN   GUARD     281 

We  knew  what  a  desperate  business  the  advance 
would  be,  because  the  Germans  greatly  outnumbered 
us,  and  they  had  planted  vast  numbers  of  guns. 
They  had  immense  bodies  of  men  in  trenches,  and  in 
a  large  number  of  the  houses  and  buildings  which 
commanded  the  ground  over  which  we  had  to  ad- 
vance they  had  placed  machine-guns,  with  their 
villainous  muzzles  directed  on  us  from  bedroom 
windows  and  holes  which  had  been  knocked  in  walls. 

From  start  to  finish  the  advance  was  a  terrible 
business — far  more  terrible  than  any  words  of  mine 
can  make  you  realise.  The  whole  Division  was  on 
the  move,  stretching  along  a  big  tract  of  country; 
but  of  course  no  man  could  see  much  of  what  was 
happening,  except  in  his  own  immediate  locality. 
Neither  had  he  much  chance  of  thinking  about  any- 
thing or  anybody  except  himself,  and  then  only  in 
a  numbed  sort  of  way,  because  of  the  appalling  din 
of  the  artillery  on  both  sides,  the  crash  of  the  guns 
and  the  explosions  of  the  shells,  with  the  ceaseless 
rattle  of  the  rifles  and  the  machine-guns. 

At  the  beginning,  the  regiments  kept  fairly  well 
together,  but  very  soon  we  were  all  mixed  up,  and 
you  could  not  tell  what  regiment  a  man  belonged 
to,  unless  he  wore  a  kilt;  then  you  knew  that,  at 
any  rate,  he  wasn't  a  Bedford.  Some  of  us  had  our 
packs  and  full  equipment.  Others  were  without 
packs,  having  been  compelled  to  throw  them  away. 
But  there  was  not  a  man  who  had  let  his  rifle  go  : 
that  is  the  last  thing  of  all  to  be  parted  from;  it  is 
the  soldier's  very  life.  And  every  man  had  a  big 
supply  of  ammunition,  with  plenty  in  reserve.  The 
general  himself  took  part  in  the  advance,  and  what 
he  did  wras  done  by  every  other  officer  present.  There 


282     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

was  no  difference  between  officer  and  man,  and  a  thing 
to  be  specially  noticed  is  the  fact  that  the  officers  got 
hold  of  rifles  and  blazed  away  as  hard  as  any  man. 

Never,  during  the  whole  of  the  war,  had  there 
been  a  more  awful  fire  than  that  which  we  gave  the 
Germans.  Whenever  we  got  the  chance,  we  gave 
them  what  they  call  the  "  Englishman's  mad  minute  " 
— that  is,  the  dreadful  fifteen  rounds  a  minute  rapid 
fire.  We  drove  it  into  them  and  mowed  them  down. 
Many  a  soldier,  when  his  own  rifle  was  too  hot  to 
hold,  threw  it  down  and  snatched  the  rifle  of  a  dead 
or  wounded  comrade  who  had  no  further  use  for  it, 
and  with  this  fresh,  cool  weapon  he  continued  the 
deadly  work  by  which  success  could  alone  be  won. 
I  do  not  know  what  the  German  losses  were,  but  I 
do  know  that  I  saw  bodies  lying  around  in  solid 
masses,  while  we  passed  our  own  dead  and  wounded 
everywhere  as  we  advanced.  Where  they  fell  they 
had  to  stay;  it  was  impossible  to  do  anything  for 
them  while  the  fighting  continued. 

The  whole  of  the  advance  consisted  of  a  series  of 
what  might  be  called  ups  and  downs — a  little  rush, 
then  a  "  bob  down."  At  most,  no  one  rush  carried 
us  more  than  fifty  yards ;  then  we  dropped  out  of 
sight  as  best  we  could,  to  get  a  breather  and  prepare 
for  another  dash.  It  was  pretty  open  country  here- 
abouts, so  that  we  were  fully  exposed  to  the  German 
artillery  and  rifle  fire,  in  addition  to  the  hail  from 
the  machine-guns  in  the  neighbouring  buildings. 
Here  and  there  we  found  little  woods  and  clumps 
of  trees  and  bits  of  rising  ground  and  ditches  and 
hedges — and  you  may  take  it  from  me  that  shelter 
of  any  sort  was  very  welcome  and  freely  used. 

A  remarkable  feature  of  this  striving  to  hide  from 


ROUT   OF   THE   PRUSSIAN   GUARD     283 

the  enemy's  fire  was  that  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  escape  from  the  shells  and  bullets  for  any  appreci- 
able time,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  Germans 
altered  their  range  in  the  most  wonderful  manner. 
So  surely  as  we  got  the  shelter  of  a  little  wood  or 
ditch,  they  seemed  to  have  the  distance  almost 
instantly,  and  the  range  was  so  accurate  that  many 
a  copse  and  ditch  became  a  little  graveyard  in  the 
course  of  that  advance. 

At  one  point  as  we  went  along  I  noticed  a  small 
ditch  against  a  hedge.  It  was  a  dirty,  uninviting 
ditch,  deep  in  water ;  but  it  seemed  to  offer  promising 
shelter,  and  so  some  officers  and  men  made  a  rush 
for  it,  meaning  to  take  cover.  They  had  no  sooner 
scrambled  into  the  ditch  and  were  thinking  them- 
selves comparatively  safe  than  the  Germans  got  the 
range  of  them  with  machine-guns,  and  nearly  the 
whole  lot  were  annihilated.  In  this  case,  as  in  others, 
the  enemy  had  been  marvellously  quick  with  their 
weapons,  and  had  swept  the  ditch  with  bullets.  I 
don't  know  what  happened  to  the  fine  fellows  who 
had  fallen.  We  had  to  leave  them  and  continue  the 
advance. 

The  forenoon  passed,  noon  came,  and  the  after- 
noon was  with  us ;  still  the  fighting  went  on,  the 
guns  on  both  sides  crashing  without  cessation,  and 
the  machine-guns  and  the  rifles  rattling  on  without 
a  break.  The  air  was  filled  with  screaming,  bursting 
shells  and  whistling  bullets,  and  the  ground  was 
ploughed  and  torn  everywhere.  It  was  horrible 
beyond  expression,  yet  it  fired  the  blood  in  us,  so 
that  the  only  thing  that  mattered  was  to  put  the 
finish  to  the  work,  get  up  to  the  Germans,  and  rout 
them  out  of  their  positions. 


284     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF   THE   WAR 

At  last,  after  endless  spells  of  lying  down  and 
jumping  up,  we  got  near  enough  to  make  it  possible 
to  charge,  and  the  order  went  round  to  get  ready. 
We  now  saw  what  big,  fine  fellows  we  had  to  tackle. 
Clearly  now  we  could  distinguish  the  Prussian  Guards, 
and  a  thing  that  particularly  struck  me  just  then  was 
that  their  bayonets  looked  very  cruel.  The  Guards 
wore  cloth -covered  brass  helmets,  and  through  the 
cloth  we  could  see  the  gleam  of  the  brass  in  the 
sunshine. 

The  nearer  we  got,  the  more  clearly  we  saw  what 
splendid  chaps  they  were,  and  what  a  desperate 
business  it  would  be  when  we  actually  reached  the 
long,  snaky  blades  of  steel — much  longer  than  our 
own  bayonets — with  longer  rifles,  too,  so  that  the 
Germans  had  the  pull  of  us  in  every  way.  But  all 
that  counted  as  nothing,  and  there  was  not  a  man 
amongst  us  who  was  not  hungering  to  be  in  amongst 
them. 

The  order  to  fix  bayonets  came  quietly,  and  it 
was  carried  out  without  any  fuss  whatever,  just  as 
a  part  of  the  day's  work.  We  were  lying  down  when 
the  order  came,  and  as  we  lay  we  got  round  at  our 
bayonets,  drew  them  and  fixed  them,  and  I  could  hear 
the  rattle  of  the  fixing  all  along  the  line,  just  as  I  had 
heard  it  many  times  on  parade  or  at  manoeuvres — the 
same  sound,  but  with  what  a  different  purpose  ! 

A  few  of  the  fellows  did  not  fix  their  bayonets  as 
we  lay,  but  they  managed  to  do  it  as  we  ran,  when 
we  had  jumped  up  and  started  to  rush  along  to  put 
the  finish  to  the  fight.  There  was  no  bugle  sound, 
we  just  got  the  word  to  charge,  an  order  which  was 
given  to  the  whole  of  the  Seventh  Division. 

When  this  last  part  of  the  advance  arrived  we 


ROUT   OF  THE   PRUSSIAN   GUARD    285 

started  halloaing  and  shouting,  and  the  Division 
simply  hurled  itself  against  the  Prussian  Guard. 
By  the  time  we  were  up  with  the  enemy  we  were 
mad.  I  can't  tell  you  much  of  what  actually  hap- 
pened— and  I  don't  think  any  man  who  took  part 
in  it  could  do  so — but  I  do  know  that  we  rushed 
helter-skelter,  and  that  when  we  got  up  to  the  famous 
Guards  there  were  only  two  of  my  own  section 
holding  together — Lance -Corporal  Perry  and  myself, 
and  even  we  were  parted  immediately  afterwards. 

The  next  thing  I  clearly  knew  was  that  we  were 
actually  on  the  Prussians,  and  that  there  was  some 
very  fierce  work  going  on.  There  was  some  terrific 
and  deadly  scrimmaging,  and  whatever  the  Prussian 
Guard  did  in  the  way  of  handling  the  steel,  the 
Seventh  Division  did  better. 

It  was  every  man  for  himself.  I  had  rushed  up 
with  the  rest,  and  the  first  thing  I  clearly  knew  was 
that  a  tremendous  Prussian  was  making  at  me  with 
his  villainous  bayonet.  I  made  a  lunge  at  him  as 
hard  and  swift  as  I  could,  and  he  did  the  same  to 
me.  I  thought  I  had  him,  but  I  just  missed,  and  as 
I  did  so,  I  saw  his  own  long,  ugly  blade  driven  out 
at  the  end  of  his  rifle.  Before  I  could  do  anything 
to  parry  the  thrust,  the  tip  of  the  bayonet  had  ripped 
across  my  right  thigh,  and  I  honestly  thought  that  it 
was  all  up  with  me. 

Then,  when  I  reckoned  that  my  account  was  paid, 
when  I  supposed  that  the  huge  Prussian  had  it  all 
his  own  way,  one  of  our  chaps — I  don't  know  who, 
I  don't  suppose  I  ever  shall ;  but  I  bless  him — rushed 
up,  drove  his  bayonet  into  the  Prussian  and  settled 
him.  I  am  sure  that  if  this  had  not  been  done  I 
should  have  been  killed  by  the  Prussian;  as  it  was, 


286     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

I  was  able  to  get  away  without  much  inconvenience 
at  the  end  of  the  bayonet  fight. 

This  struggle  lasted  about  half-an-hour,  and  fierce, 
hard  work  it  was  all  the  time.  In  the  end  we  drove 
the  Guards  away  and  sent  them  flying — all  except 
those  who  had  fallen;  the  trench  was  full  of  the 
latter,  and  we  took  no  prisoners.  Then  we  were 
forced  to  retire  ourselves,  for  the  ample  reason  that 
we  were  not  strong  enough  to  hold  the  position  that 
we  had  taken  at  such  a  heavy  cost.  The  enemy  did 
not  know  it  then,  though  perhaps  they  found  out 
later,  that  we  had  nicely  deceived  them  in  making 
them  believe  that  we  had  reinforcements.  But  we 
had  nothing  of  the  sort;  yet  we  had  stormed  and 
taken  the  position  and  driven  its  defenders  away. 

We  were  far  too  weak  to  hold  the  position,  and  so 
we  retired  over  the  ground  that  we  had  won,  getting 
back  a  great  deal  faster  than  we  had  advanced.  We 
had  spent  the  best  part  of  the  day  in  advancing  and 
reaching  the  enemy's  position;  and  it  seemed  as  if 
we  must  have  covered  a  great  tract  of  country,  but 
as  a  matter  of  fact  we  had  advanced  less  than  a  mile. 
It  had  taken  us  many  hours  to  cover  that  short 
distance ;  but  along  the  whole  of  the  long  line  of  the 
advance  the  ground  was  littered  with  the  fallen — 
the  officers  and  men  who  had  gone  down  under  such 
a  storm  of  shells  and  bullets  as  had  not  been  known 
since  the  war  began. 

Retiring,  we  took  up  a  position  behind  a  wood, 
and  were  thinking  that  we  should  get  a  bit  of  a  rest, 
when  a  German  aeroplane  came  flying  over  us,  gave 
our  hiding-place  away,  and  brought  upon  us  a  fire 
that  drove  us  out  and  sent  us  back  to  three  lines  of 
trenches  which  we  had  been  occupying. 


ice  p.  286. 


I  MADE  A  LUNGE   AT   HIM,    BUT   JUST   MISSED,    AND    I   SAW   HIS 
OWN   LONG,    UGLY    BLADE   DRIVEN    OUT"    (p.    285). 


ROUT   OF  THE   PRUSSIAN   GUARD     287 

By  this  time  our  ambulances  were  hard  at  work; 
but  ambulance  or  no  ambulance,  the  pitiless  shelling 
went  on,  and  I  saw  many  instances  of  German 
brutality  in  this  respect.  The  ambulance  vehicles 
were  crowded,  and  I  saw  one  which  had  two  wounded 
men  standing  on  the  back,  because  there  was  not 
room  enough  for  them  inside.  Shells  were  bursting 
all  around,  and  a  piece  struck  one  of  the  poor  chaps 
and  took  part  of  his  foot  clean  away.  He  instantly 
fell  on  to  the  road,  and  there  he  had  to  be  left.  I 
hope  he  got  picked  up  by  another  ambulance,  though 
I  doubt  it,  for  the  shell-firing  just  then  was  heavy, 
and  deliberately  aimed  at  helpless  ambulances  by 
people  who  preach  what  they  call  culture  ! 

We  made  the  best  of  things  during  the  evening 
and  the  night  in  the  trenches.  The  next  day  things 
were  reversed,  for  the  Germans  came  on  against  us; 
but  we  kept  up  a  furious  fight,  and  simply  mowed 
them  down  as  they  threw  themselves  upon  us.  We 
used  to  say,  "  Here  comes  another  bunch  of  'em  !  " 
and  then  we  gave  them  the  "  mad  minute."  We 
had  suffered  heavily  on  the  31st,  and  we  were 
to  pay  a  big  bill  again  on  this  1st  of  November, 
amongst  our  casualties  being  two  of  our  senior 
officers. 

The  battalion  was  in  the  peculiar  position  of 
having  no  colonel  at  the  head  of  it,  our  commanding 
officer  being  Major  J.  M.  Traill.  I  should  like  to  say 
now,  by  way  of  showing  how  heavily  the  Bedfords 
suffered,  that  in  one  of  Sir  John  French's  despatches, 
published  early  in  the  year,  seven  officers  were  men- 
tioned, and  in  the  cases  of  six  of  them  it  had  to  be 
added  that  they  had  been  killed  in  action.  Major 
Traill  and  Major  R.  P.  Stares  were  killed  not  far  from 


288     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

me  on  the  day  I  am  telling  of — and  within  two  hours 
of  each  other. 

We  were  lying  in  trenches,  and  the  majors  were  in 
front  of  us,  walking  about,  and  particularly  warning 
us  to  be  careful  and  not  expose  ourselves.  Their 
first  thought  seemed  to  be  for  us,  and  their  last  for 
themselves. 

Just  at  that  time  there  was  some  uncommonly 
deadly  sniping  going  on,  and  any  figure  that  was  seen 
even  for  a  fraction  of  time  was  a  certain  target.  The 
sniper  himself  was  a  specially  chosen  German,  and 
he  had  as  a  companion  and  look-out  a  smart  chap 
with  field-glasses,  to  sweep  the  countryside  and  report 
to  tKe  sniper  anything  promising  that  he  saw  in  the 
way  of  a  target.  Working  in  pairs  like  this,  the 
snipers  were  able  to  pick  off  the  two  majors  as  they 
walked  up  and  down  directing  and  encouraging  us. 
They  were  shot,  and,  as  far  as  we  could  tell,  killed 
instantly.  We  felt  their  loss  very  greatly. 

Major  Stares  had  very  much  endeared  himself  to 
his  men,  and  he  was  a  great  favourite  in  South  Africa 
before  the  war  began.  We  were  all  eager  to  get  to 
the  front,  of  course,  and  were  constantly  talking 
about  what  we  should  do,  and  wondering  what  would 
happen  when  we  met  the  Germans.  The  major  was 
never  tired  of  explaining  what  we  ought  to  do  in 
tight  and  dangerous  corners,  and  asking  us  what  we 
should  do.  I  have  known  him  stop  us  in  the  street 
to  ask  us  these  questions,  so  keen  and  anxious  was 
he  for  our  welfare. 

The  second  day  of  the  fighting  passed  and  the 
third  came.  Still  we  held  on,  but  it  became  clear 
that  we  were  too  hopelessly  outnumbered  to  hope 
for  complete  success  at  the  time,  and  so  we  were 


ROUT   OF  THE   PRUSSIAN   GUARD     289 

forced  to  leave  the  trenches.  Withdrawing  again,  we 
took  up  positions  in  farmhouses  and  woods  and  any 
other  places  that  gave  shelter.  All  the  time  there 
was  a  killing  fire  upon  us,  and  it  happened  that  entire 
bodies  of  men  would  be  wiped  out  in  a  few  moments. 
A  party  of  the  Warwicks  got  into  a  wood  near  us, 
and  they  had  no  sooner  taken  shelter  than  the  German 
gunners  got  the  range  of  them,  shelled  them,  and 
killed  nearly  all  of  them. 

There  was  not  a  regiment  of  the  Glorious  Seventh 
that  had  not  suffered  terribly  in  the  advance  during 
the  three  days'  fateful  fighting.  The  Bedfords  had 
lost,  all  told,  about  600,  and  it  was  a  mere  skeleton 
of  the  battalion  that  formed  up  when  the  roll  was 
called.  But  there  was  one  pleasant  surprise  for  me, 
and  that  was  meeting  again  with  Lance-Corporal 
Perry.  We  had  lost  sight  of  each  other  in  the  hand- 
to-hand  fighting  with  the  Prussian  Guard,  and  met 
again  when  we  were  reorganised  at  an  old  chateau; 
and  very  thankful  we  were  to  compare  notes,  especially 
as  each  of  us  thought  that  the  other  was  a  dead  man. 
There  were  a  good  many  cases  of  soldiers  turning  up 
who  were  supposed  to  be  either  killed  or  wounded,  or, 
what  is  worse,  missing.  In  the  inevitable  disorder 
and  confusion  of  such  a  battle  they  had  got  separated 
from  their  own  regiments  and  had  joined  others ;  but 
they  turned  up  in  due  course  in  their  right  places. 

I  had  become  a  member  of  the  grenade  company 
of  the  battalion,  which  was  something  like  going  back 
to  the  early  days  of  the  Army,  when  the  grenadier 
companies  of  the  regiments  flung  their  little  bombs  at 
the  enemy.  So  did  we,  and  grim  work  it  Was,  hurling 
home-made  bombs,  which  had  the  power  of  doing  a 
great  amount  of  mischief, 
u 


290     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

I  was  with  the  grenade  company,  behind  a  brick 
wall  close  to  the  trenches,  and  was  sitting  with  several 
others  round  a  fire  which  we  had  made  in  a  biscuit- 
tin.  We  were  quite  a  merry  party,  and  had  the  dixie 
going  to  make  some  tea.  There  was  another  dixie 
on,  with  two  or  three  nice  chickens  that  our  fellows 
had  got  hold  of — perhaps  they  had  seen  them  wander- 
ing about  homeless  and  adopted  them. 

Anyway,  they  found  a  good  home  in  the  stew-pot, 
and  we  were  looking  forward  to  a  most  cosy  meal. 
As  a  sort  of  change  from  shelling  by  batteries  in  the 
ordinary  way,  we  were  being  shelled  from  an  armoured 
train,  but  were  taking  little  notice  of  it,  being  busy 
with  the  tea  and  chickens. 

The  Germans  were  close  enough  to  fling  hand- 
bombs  at  us.  They  gave  us  lots  of  these  little 
attentions,  so  that  when  I  suddenly  found  myself 
blinded,  and  felt  a  sharp  pain  in  my  left  hand,  I 
thought  they  had  made  a  lucky  shot,  or  that  some- 
thing had  exploded  in  the  fire  in  the  biscuit-tin. 

For  some  time  I  did  not  know  what  had  happened ; 
then  I  was  able  to  see,  and  on  looking  at  my  hand, 
I  found  it  to  be  in  a  sorry  mess,  half  the  thumb  and 
half  a  finger  having  been  carried  away. 

I  stayed  and  had  some  tea  from  the  dixie,  and  my 
chums  badly  wanted  me  to  wait  for  my  share  of  the 
chickens ;  but  I  had  no  appetite  for  fowls  just  then. 
I  made  the  best  of  things  till  darkness  came,  and 
under  cover  of  it  a  couple  of  stretcher-bearers  took 
me  to  the  nearest  dressing-station. 

I  suffered  intensely,  and  lockjaw  set  in,  but  the 
splendid  medical  staff  and  the  nursing  saved  me, 
and  I  was  put  into  a  horse  ambulance  and  packed  off 
home.  And  here  I  am. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  BRITISH  VICTORY  AT  NEUVE  CHAPELLE 

[On  the  road  from  Bethune  to  Armentieres,  four  miles  to 
the  north  of  La  Bassee,  is  the  little  straggling  frontier  village 
of  Neuve  Chapelle,  which  first  came  into  notice  in  October 
during  the  British  advance  to  the  north  of  La  Bassee.  At 
that  time  the  village  was  held  by  the  Germans,  but  on  October 
16th  they  were  driven  out  by  the  British.  As  a  result  of  the 
tremendous  efforts  of  the  Germans  in  trying  to  reach  Calais 
we  were  not  able  to  hold  the  village,  which  again  was  held  by 
the  enemy  at  the  beginning  of  November.  The  British  were 
driven  back  a  short  distance  and  for  more  than  four  months 
they  remained  near  Neuve  Chapelle ;  then,  on  March  10th  they 
began  an  attack  which  ended  in  the  village  being  retaken  by  us 
and  held.  The  German  Westphalian  Army  Corps  in  October 
and  November  had  forced  the  British  out  of  Neuve  Chapelle, 
but  in  March  these  troops  were  routed  and  severely  punished 
by  part  of  Sir  John  French's  "  contemptible  little  army." 
What  the  battle  meant  and  how  it  was  fought  is  told  by  Sergeant 
Gilliam,  1st  Battalion  Coldstream  Guards.] 

THE  battle  of  Neuve  Chapelle  began  at  half -past  seven 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  March  10th,  and  ended  at 
about  half -past  nine  on  the  night  of  the  12th.  Earlier 
on  the  morning  of  that  famous  day  our  battalion  was 
ordered  to  stand  to,  as  supports  of  the  1st  Brigade. 
We  were  told  to  be  ready  to  turn  out  at  ten  minutes' 
notice;  and  we  were  ready,  for  we  were  longing  to 
have  a  settlement  with  the  Germans,  who  had  dug 
themselves  in  at  Neuve  Chapelle,  and  made  them- 
selves very  comfortable  and  thought  that  no  power 
on  earth  could  drive  them  out.  But  we  had  a  big 

U2  291 


292     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

surprise  in  store  for  them,  and  we  sprung  it  on  them 
like  a  thunderbolt  when  our  massed  guns  roared  soon 
after  sunrise  on  that  early  day  in  March.  Whatever 
advantages  the  Germans  might  have  had  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  war  we  had  been  getting  the  better  of 
them,  and  we  were  certain  that  we  were  now  much 
superior  to  the  enemy  in  every  way.  We  knew  that 
the  British  Army  was  becoming  too  much  for  them, 
and  we  were  anxious  to  prove  it  that  morning,  when 
the  biggest  bombardment  the  world  has  ever  known 
began,  and  along  a  tremendous  front  there  came  into 
action  hundreds  of  the  largest  and  the  smallest  guns 
that  we  had  out  in  France. 

I  am  sure  that  every  man  who  was  in  at  the  be- 
ginning of  this  war,  from  Mons  to  the  Marne  and  the 
Aisne,  as  I  was,  till  I  was  invalided  home  wounded, 
will  agree  with  me  that  there  had  been  nothing  like  the 
British  artillery  fire  at  Neuve  Chapelle.  It  was  truly 
fearful.  Something  like  five  miles  away,  nearly  five 
hundred  British  guns  were  bombarding  the  village, 
the  batteries  being  on  a  front  four  or  five  miles  in 
extent,  so  that  there  was  only  a  few  yards  space 
between  each  gun.  The  result  was  that  an  immense 
wall  of  fire  was  seen  where  the  artillery  was  in  position, 
while  the  village  itself  was  a  target  on  which  shells 
rained  and  made  havoc.  Nothing  could  withstand 
that  awful  cannonading — houses  and  buildings  of 
every  sort  were  shattered,  and  often  enough  a  single 
shell  was  sufficient  to  destroy  an  entire  house.  When 
we  got  into  the  place  at  the  end  of  the  battle  it  looked 
as  if  some  tremendous  earthquake  had  upheaved  it 
and  thrown  it  down  in  a  mass  of  wreckage.  It  was 
almost  impossible  to  tell  where  the  streets  had  been, 
and  so  enormous  was  the  power  of  some  of  the  shells 


VICTORY   AT  NEUVE   CHAPELLE       293 

that  were  fired  and  burst  in  the  ground,  that  the  very 
dead  had  been  blown  up  from  their  resting-places  in 
the  churchyard,  only  to  be  re -buried  by  the  falling 
walls  around.  The  bombardment  was  bad  enough 
for  those  who  were  out  of  it;  for  those  who  were  in 
it  the  effect  of  the  shell  fire  was  paralysing.  The 
Germans  had  had  nothing  like  it,  and  more  than  one 
prisoner  declared  that  it  was  not  war,  it  was  murder. 
We  didn't  quite  see  how  they  made  that  out ;  but  it 
was  near  enough  for  the  Germans,  and  we  told  them 
that  we  were  only  getting  a  bit  of  our  own  back  for 
Mons.  "  And,"  we  said,  "  this  is  only  a  taste  of  what's 
in  store  for  you.  It's  nothing  to  what's  coming  1  " 

The  roar  of  these  massed  guns  was  so  deafening, 
and  the  noise  of  the  exploding  shells  was  so  incessant, 
that  we  could  not  hear  one  another  speak.  The  air 
was  all  of  a  quiver  and  you  could  see  the  heat  in  the 
atmosphere  just  as  you  see  it  when  looking  at  the 
horizon  in  a  tropical  country,  and  as  I  saw  it  many 
times  when  we  were  in  Egypt.  The  heat  from  the 
shells  made  the  day  for  all  the  world  like  a  hot  summer 
day,  and  the  fumes  and  flashes  caused  a  strange  mist 
that  looked  like  rain,  though  the  sun  was  shining. 

The  bombardment  was  grand  and  terrible  beyond 
description ;  but  there  was  one  good  thing  about  it, 
and  that  was  that  the  Germans  did  not  reply  very 
often — they  seemed  numbed  and  stunned — and  when 
they  did,  their  fire  was  very  slight  and  feeble,  and  so 
far  as  I  could  tell  not  one  of  their  shells  did  any  serious 
damage  amongst  the  British  forces. 

For  half-an-hour  the  British  artillery  bombarded 
the  enemy's  first  line  of  trenches,  and  this  fire  to  the 
Germans  must  have  seemed  as  if  hell  had  been  let 
loose,  because  everything  that  was  in  the  line  of  fire 


294     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

was  blown  away  or  levelled  to  the  ground — walls, 
trees,  buildings,  sandbags,  even  the  barbed  wire 
entanglements  were  carried  away  by  shell  splinters 
and  shrapnel  bullets,  though  unfortunately  some  of 
the  entanglements  escaped  injury,  and  became  death- 
traps for  a  number  of  our  fine  fellows  who  were 
hurling  themselves  upon  the  Germans. 

Perhaps  I  should  explain,  so  that  my  story  is  quite 
clear,  that  Neuve  Chapelle,  or  what  is  left  of  it,  stands 
on  perfectly  flat  ground,  with  plenty  of  enclosed  gar- 
dens and  orchards  and  some  wooded  country  near. 
The  Germans  had  dug  themselves  into  very  complete 
trenches,  and  had  built  some  strong  breastworks  near 
the  highroad  into  which  they  had  put  a  large  number 
of  machine-guns.  In  houses  and  elsewhere  these 
weapons  had  been  planted,  and  in  some  places  they 
fairly  bristled.  Our  object  was  to  rout  the  Germans 
out  of  their  trenches  and  houses  and  barricades,  and 
in  view  of  the  deadly  nature  of  machine-guns  and 
rifles  the  work  was  bound  to  be  long  and  heavy  and 
costly.  How  desperate  the  assault  was  has  been 
shown  by  the  losses  of  some  of  our  splendid  line 
battalions. 

When  the  bombardment  of  the  first  line  of  trenches 
was  over,  the  way  had  been  paved  for  the  infantry, 
who  were  lying  in  their  trenches,  not  far  from  the 
village.  They  were  waiting  eagerly  for  the  order  to 
advance,  and  when  it  came,  they  sprang  out  of  their 
trenches  with  such  shouts  that  you  might  have 
thought  a  lot  of  lunatics  had  been  let  loose.  They 
dashed  forward,  and  almost  before  it  was  possible  to 
realise  what  had  happened  they  were  in  the  nearest 
German  trench. 

Then  it  was,  even  so  soon  after  the  battle  had 


VICTORY   AT   NEUVE   CHAPELLE      295 

opened,  that  we  knew  how  destructive  the  fire  of  our 
guns  had  been,  for  when  the  trench  was  reached  there 
was  hardly  a  German  left  to  tackle.  Our  shells  had 
landed  plump  into  the  enemy,  and  the  result  was  that 
the  trench  was  full  of  dead  and  wounded  Germans. 
The  few  survivors  did  not  hesitate  to  explain  that  they 
felt  as  if  they  could  shake  hands  with  themselves  and 
to  marvel  that  any  one  of  them  had  come  out  of  such 
a  fire  alive. 

Our  men  were  full  of  joy  at  such  an  ending  to  their 
rush,  full  of  satisfaction  to  feel  that  they  were  making 
such  a  fine  score,  then  came  one  of  those  misunder- 
standings and  mishaps  which  are  part  and  parcel  of  a 
fight  in  which  the  artillery  cannot  always  see  what  it 
is  doing — our  own  poor  fellows  suddenly  found  them- 
selves under  the  fire  of  our  gunners,  who  had  started 
bombarding  the  trench  again  under  the  impression 
that  it  was  still  held  by  the  Germans. 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  what  it  meant  to  be  in  a  trench 
like  that,  at  such  a  time — a  long  narrow  pit  which 
had  been  knocked  about  by  shells  and  was  crowded 
with  debris  and  killed  and  wounded  men,  and  then 
to  be  under  our  own  shell -fire.  With  unerring  aim 
the  shells  came  into  the  trench,  causing  consternation, 
and  yet  a  sort  of  grim  humour.  Above  the  cries  of 
the  wounded  and  the  shouts  of  the  men  came  the  loud 
voices  of  the  officers,  saying,  "  What  is  our  artillery 
thinking  of?  What  are  they  doing?  "  And  at  the 
same  time  doing  their  dead  best  to  get  their  men  out 
of  it  and  back  to  their  own  trenches. 

The  order  was  now  given  to  retire  to  our  old  posi- 
tion, and  at  last  the  order  was  carried  out,  but  still 
some  of  our  men  were  puzzled  to  know  what  had  taken 
place,  and  they  shouted,  "  What's  wrong  ?  "  "  What's 


296     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

happened?  "  and  so  on,  while  there  were  many  cries 
for  help  and  water.  It  was  soon  seen  that  there  had 
been  a  mistake,  and  the  best  was  made  of  it,  though 
that  was  not  much  consolation  for  poor  chaps  who 
had  been  badly  mauled  and  knocked  about  by  fire 
that  was  meant  for  the  enemy. 

Noon  came  round  on  that  first  day  of  the  battle  and 
the  chief  thing  we  knew  was  that  what  we  thought 
was  finished  had  not  been  done,  and  we  had  to  start 
afresh ;  but  there  was  no  grumbling  or  whining.  It 
was  realised  that  there  had  been  a  mistake,  and  it 
was  taken  in  the  way  of  British  soldiers.  And  we 
were  well  rewarded,  for  suddenly  our  artillery  re- 
started. They  knew  by  this  time  what  had  happened, 
and  I  think  they  must  have  felt  pretty  savage,  judging 
from  the  nature  of  their  fire.  We  could  see  the 
destructive  effects  of  it  from  our  trenches,  and  it  was 
a  wonderful  yet  awful  sight  to  watch  the  Germans 
being  blown  out  of  their  trenches  into  the  air,  some 
of  the  bodies  being  shot  twenty  or  thirty  feet  high. 
I  am  not  going  to  dwell  on  the  havoc  that  was  caused 
amongst  men ;  but  you  can  imagine  how  dismembered 
parts  were  scattered  by  such  a  continuous  bursting 
of  shells. 

The  bombardment  stopped  abruptly,  and  in  the 
strange  calm  that  followed  it  we  went  off  again,  in 
just  the  same  high  spirits  as  before.  This  time  we 
were  lucky;  there  was  no  mishap,  things  went  well 
and  right,  and  by  half-past  two  we  had  the  joy  and 
pride  of  knowing  that  we  had  made  ourselves  masters 
of  the  first  line  of  the  German  trenches. 

This  line  was  piled  up  with  the  German  dead,  and  the 
first  thing  we  did  was  to  get  to  work  to  clear  some  of 
the  bodies  away,  so  as  to  make  a  bit  of  room  for  our- 


VICTORY  AT  NEUVE   CHAPELLE       297 

selves  to  stand,  keeping  at  the  same  time  well  under 
cover  in  case  the  enemy  tried  to  get  their  own  back ; 
but  they  had  been  too  badly  shaken,  and  nothing 
of  this  sort  took  place.  The  Germans  believed  that 
Neuve  Chapelle  could  not  be  taken,  as  it  was  so 
strongly  fortified,  and  we  now  had  a  chance  of  seeing 
how  much  ground  they  had  for  their  belief.  A 
particularly  strong  defence  was  the  barbed  wire 
entanglements,  which  had  been  made  uncommonly 
thick  and  complicated.  This  was  the  reason  why 
even  our  destructive  fire  did  not  cut  through  the 
entanglements  and  why  some  of  our  infantry  suffered 
so  heavily.  The  Liverpool  Regiment  lost  terribly,  as 
so  many  of  the  officers  and  men  were  caught  in  the 
wires  and  had  no  chance  of  escaping  from  the  fire 
which  the  Germans  mercilessly  directed  upon  them. 
The  Liverpools  were  caught  between  the  cross-fire 
of  two  German  maxims  as  they  tried  to  cut  through 
the  barbed  wire,  just  in  front  of  the  German  trenches. 
It  was  real  heroism  on  the  part  of  the  Liverpools  and 
it  was  a  ghastly  sight  to  see  the  brave  fellows  being 
cut  down  like  flies. 

In  our  captured  trench,  which  was  nothing  more 
than  a  huge  grave,  we  began,  when  we  had  made 
ourselves  secure,  to  snatch  a  few  mouthfuls  of  food ; 
but  we  had  no  sooner  started  on  this  pleasant  task 
than  down  came  the  order  to  prepare  to  advance. 

"  That's  right !  "  the  men  shouted.  "  The  music's 
started  again  !  Let's  get  at  the  German  pigs  !  " 
Not  very  polite,  perhaps,  but  in  this  war  a  good  deal 
has  been  said  on  both  sides  about  swine. 

We  sprang  out  of  our  trench  and  went  full  swing 
for  the  second  trench — there  were  four  trenches  to 
storm  and  take  before  our  object  was  accomplished. 


298     SOLDIERS'    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

Very  soon  we  were  in  amongst  the  Germans  in  the 
second  trench,  and  it  was  a  fine  sight  to  see  them 
being  put  through  the  mill. 

Just  in  front  of  us,  amongst  the  enemy,  the  shells 
from  our  own  guns  were  bursting — a  wonderful  in- 
stance of  the  accuracy  of  modern  artillery  fire — and 
it  was  fascinating  to  see  the  shells  sweeping  every 
inch  of  the  ground,  and  marvellous  that  human 
beings  could  exist  in  such  a  deadly  area.  Every  now 
and  then  in  would  go  one  of  the  German  parapets, 
and  the  almost  inevitable  accompaniment  was  the 
blowing  into  the  air  of  limbs  and  mangled  bodies. 
These  things  were  not  a  laughing  matter,  yet  often 
enough,  as  we  watched  a  shell  burst  and  cause  havoc 
we  laughed  outright — which  shows  how  soon  even 
the  most  dreadful  of  happenings  are  taken  as  matters 
of  course. 

Now  came  the  order  for  us  to  assault  and  away  the 
infantry  went,  right  into  the  German  trench,  with 
such  a  rush  and  power  that  the  enemy  seemed  to 
have  no  chance  of  standing  up  against  the  onslaught. 

The  men  of  the  Leicestershire  Regiment  hurled 
themselves  into  the  thick  of  the  bloody  fray,  not  once, 
nor  twice,  but  five  times  in  succession  did  they  rush 
the  Germans  with  the  bayonet — and  at  the  end  of 
that  tremendous  onslaught  they  had  not  a  single 
German  prisoner  !  Never  while  a  German  lives  who 
survived  the  charges  of  the  Leicesters  will  he  forget 
what  happened  in  the  trenches  at  Neuve  Chapelle — 
and  what  the  Leicesters  did  was  done  by  the  Irish 
Guards.  No  prisoners — and  no  man  who  has  been 
through  the  war  from  the  start  will  blame  them,  for 
he  knows  what  the  Germans  have  done  to  our  own 
brave  fellows,  not  in  fair  fight,  but  when  they  have 


VICTORY  AT  NEUVE   CHAPELLE       299 

been  lying  helpless  on  the  roadside,  especially  in  the 
retreat  from  Mons. 

The  long  and  thrilling  day  was  ending,  darkness 
was  falling,  and  we  pulled  ourselves  together  and 
prepared  for  a  lively  night.  We  fully  expected  a 
counter  attack,  but  no — it  seemed  to  be  the  other 
way  about,  for  on  our  left  we  had  our  famous  Gurkhas 
and  Sikhs,  and  they  were  getting  ready  for  work. 

It  was  quite  dark,  about  half -past  nine,  when 
suddenly  there  was  a  shout  in  the  German  trenches, 
and  as  it  rose  in  the  night  a  pair  of  our  starlights 
burst,  like  bright,  beautiful  fireworks  in  the  sky, 
and  showed  us  what  was  happening.  It  was  this — 
the  Indians  had  moved  swiftly  and  silently  in  the 
night,  they  had  crept  and  crawled  up  to  the  German 
position,  and  before  the  enemy  knew  what  was  taking 
place  the  heavy  curved  knife,  which  is  the  Gurkha's 
pride,  was  at  work,  and  that  is  a  weapon  against 
which  the  German  soldier,  especially  when  in  the 
trenches,  seems  to  have  no  chance  whatever.  It  is 
almost  impossible  to  get  over  your  surprise  at  the  way 
in  which  these  brave  little  Indians  cover  the  ground 
in  attacking.  They  crawl  out  of  their  trenches  at 
night,  lie  flat  on  their  stomachs,  with  the  rifle  and  the 
bayonet  in  the  right  hand,  and  wriggle  over  the  ground 
like  a  snake  and  with  amazing  speed.  Having  reached 
the  enemy's  trenches  they  drop  the  rifle  and  bayonet 
and  out  come  the  knives — and  woe  betide  the  Ger- 
mans that  are  within  reach.  The  Gurkhas  are  born 
fighters,  the  love  of  battle  is  in  their  very  blood,  and 
they  fight  all  the  more  readily  and  gladly  because 
they  believe  that  if  they  are  slain  they  are  sure  to  go 
to  heaven.  If  a  German  makes  a  lunge  at  him,  the 
Gurkha  seizes  the  bayonet  with  the  left  hand  and 


300     SOLDIERS*    STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

gets  to  work  with  the  knife.  The  plucky  little  chaps 
get  their  hands  badly  ripped  with  the  German 
bayonets,  and  many  came  into  Neuve  Chapelle  with 
half  their  left  hands  off. 

The  Germans  hate  the  sight  of  these  Indians,  and 
those  who  could  do  so  escaped  from  the  trench. 
They  lost  no  time  in  going — they  fled,  and  no  wonder, 
for  they  had  suffered  terribly,  not  only  from  the 
Indians,  but  also  from  the  Black  Watch,  who  had 
been  at  them  with  the  bayonets.  The  Highlanders 
took  a  large  number  of  prisoners;  but  the  German 
dead  were  everywhere,  and  the  trench  was  packed 
with  them — indeed,  all  the  trenches  at  the  end  of  the 
battle  were  filled  with  Germans. 

During  the  10th  and  llth  we  made  such  good  pro- 
gress that  we  had  taken  three  of  the  four  trenches; 
then  came  the  worst  day  of  all,  the  12th,  for  on  that 
we  were  ordered  to  take  the  fourth  trench  which 
the  Germans  held.  This  was  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
village  and  was  strongly  fortified.  There  was  a 
strong  blockhouse  at  the  back  of  the  trench  which 
added  greatly  to  the  security  of  the  position. 

We  were  up  and  ready  early — at  half-past  six — 
and  as  soon  as  day  had  broken  the  guns  began  their 
dreadful  booming,  and  very  solemn  they  sounded  in 
the  cold  grey  light,  which  is  always  so  cheerless. 
The  guns  cleared  the  way  again  and  did  some  ex- 
cellent work  in  smashing  away  the  wire  entanglements 
and  blowing  up  German  works ;  then  came  the  order 
to  charge. 

I  was  not  in  at  the  actual  taking  of  this  last  trench, 
but  I  was  lucky  in  being  close  enough  to  be  able  to 
see  what  was  going  on,  and  what  I  saw  was  some  of 
the  most  furious  fighting  in  the  whole  of  the  battle. 


VICTORY   AT  NEUVE   CHAPELLE      301 

The  first  charge  was  made  with  all  the  dash  and 
courage  of  the  infantry,  who  had  already  done  so 
well.  Our  men  rushed  gallantly  at  the  Germans; 
but  so  withering  was  the  fire  with  which  they  were  met 
and  so  hopeless  seemed  the  obstacles  that  they  were 
repulsed  with  heavy  loss,  and  I  know  of  nothing  more 
heart-breaking  to  us  who  were  watching  than  the 
sight  of  these  soldiers  being  sacrificed  and  suffering 
as  they  did  without,  apparently,  winning  any  success. 
Again  the  artillery  shelled  the  German  position, 
then,  across  the  ground  which  was  littered  with  our 
dead  and  dying  our  brave  fellows  charged  again. 
They  sprang  up  from  the  shelter  of  their  trenches, 
and  with  even  greater  fury  than  before  threw  them- 
selves upon  the  enemy,  only  to  be  beaten  back  for  the 
second  time,  by  the  cross  fire  of  the  machine-guns. 
In  spite  of  all  these  losses  and  the  awful  odds  against 
them  our  men  kept  their  spirits  up  and  vowed  that 
they  would  still  drive  the  enemy  completely  out  of 
Neuve  Chapelle,  and  get  their  own  back  for  Mons 
and  the  rest  of  it,  and  so,  while  our  artillery  took 
up  its  tune  again  the  men  got  a  breather,  and  after 
a  bombardment  which  lasted  at  least  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  there  were  shouts  of  "  Now,  boys,  again  ! 
Let  'em  have  it  !  "  And  up  the  infantry  sprang  once 
more  and  dashed  across  the  fatal  ground.  The  men 
who  were  nearest  to  me  were  the  2nd  Black  Watch, 
and  it  did  one's  heart  good  to  see  the  way  the  kilties 
swung  towards  the  enemy's  position.  But  it  all 
seemed  in  vain,  for  at  this  point  there  was  the  block- 
house to  be  reckoned  with.  It  was  right  in  the  centre 
and  was  a  veritable  little  fortress  which  seemed  a 
mass  of  flame  and  sent  machine-gun  and  rifle  bullets 
like  hail.  No  troops  could  live  or  stand  against  such 


302     SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

a  fusillade,  and  so  our  men  had  to  fall  back  even  once 
more  to  the  protection  of  the  trenches. 

By  this  time  the  position  and  danger  of  the  block- 
house were  known,  and  our  artillery  got  the  range  of 
it,  and  that  having  been  done,  the  end  was  merely 
a  matter  of  time.  A  battery  of  British  guns  was 
trained  on  the  blockhouse  and  the  fire  was  so  accurate 
that  the  fourth  shell  went  through  the  left  corner 
and  the  building  was  riddled  with  shrapnel  and  put 
out  of  action. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  our  fellows  spotted  an 
observation-post  on  the  church  in  the  village.  As 
you  know,  churches  and  houses  are  objects  that  the 
British  always  avoid  firing  upon  if  they  can,  though 
the  Germans  have  wantonly  destroyed  large  numbers 
of  both.  There  was  the  observation-post,  plainly  to 
be  seen,  and  as  the  Germans  were  directing  their 
artillery  fire  from  it  and  the  post  was  a  danger  and  a 
nuisance  to  us  and  hindered  our  progress,  a  special 
effort  was  made  to  wipe  it  out.  And  the  effort  suc- 
ceeded, for  the  British  gunners  got  on  it  a  "  Little 
Harry,"  a  shell  that  puts  to  shame  even  the  Jack 
Johnsons  and  the  Black  Marias  of  the  enemy.  "  Little 
Harry "  settled  the  observation-post  swiftly  and 
finally,  and  then  the  fourth  and  last  charge  for  Neuve 
Chapelle  was  made. 

And  what  a  charge  it  was  !  It  was  magnificent. 
Every  bit  of  strength  and  courage  that  was  left 
seemed  to  be  put  into  it,  and  while  the  infantry  dashed 
on  with  the  bayonet  and  put  the  finish  to  the  stubborn 
German  resistance  in  the  trenches  and  got  the  enemy 
fairly  on  the  run,  the  Gurkhas  and  the  famous  Sikhs 
and  Bengal  Lancers  hurled  themselves  on  the  flying 
regiments  and  cut  them  down  with  lance  and  sword. 


[To  /ace  p.  302. 

"  THE    INFANTRY   DASHED    ON   WITH   THE    BAYONET." 


VICTORY  AT  NEUVE   CHAPELLE      803 

It  was  a  wonderful  swirl  of  fighting.  This  time  the 
blockhouse  was  stormed  by  the  2nd  Middlesex  and 
the  Royal  Irish  Rifles. 

All  at  once  the  guns  had  finished,  and  with  wild 
cheers  the  old  "  Die-Hards  "  and  the  Irishmen  rushed 
to  the  German  trench  and  would  not  be  driven  back. 
By  about  half-past  three  the  blockhouse  was  taken, 
and  then  it  was  seen  that  it  had  been  defended  by  no 
fewer  than  half-a-dozen  machine-guns  and  two  trench 
mortars,  to  say  nothing  of  rifles.  These  weapons 
and  thousands  of  rounds  of  ammunition  were  captured 
and  the  Germans  who  had  not  been  killed  were  found 
hiding  under  cover  as  best  they  could  and  they  were 
thankful  to  surrender. 

While  this  splendid  piece  of  work  was  being  finished 
our  Indians  on  the  left  were  doing  heavy  execution. 
The  Bengal  Lancers  were  driving  the  fleeing  enemy 
straight  through  the  village,  if  that  could  be  called 
a  village  which  was  now  an  almost  shapeless  mass  of 
burning  and  smoking  ruins.  And  spies  and  snipers 
had  to  be  searched  for  in  the  shattered  buildings, 
while  we  had  to  leave  the  captured  trenches  for  two 
reasons,  because  they  were  filled  with  dead,  and  at  any 
moment  we  might  be  blown  out  of  them  by  mines 
which  the  Germans  had  laid.  So  we  had  to  set  to 
work,  even  while  the  fight  was  being  finished,  to  con- 
struct new  trenches,  and  we  worked  hard  on  these  so 
as  to  make  ourselves  secure  in  case  of  a  counter 
attack. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  saw  the  victorious  Indian 
cavalry  returning.  At  about  six  o'clock  we  heard 
the  thud  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  looking  up  from  the 
new  trenches  that  we  were  making  we  saw  the  Bengal 
Lancers  coming  back  from  their  pursuit  and  rout  of 


304    SOLDIERS'   STORIES   OF  THE   WAR 

the  Germans.  They  had  chased  the  enemy  right 
through  the  village  and  into  a  big  wood  on  the  other 
side  of  Neuve  Chapelle,  and  what  they  had  done  was 
shown  by  their  reddened  lances  and  the  helmets  and 
caps  that  were  stuck  on  the  steel.  There  were  about 
six  hundred  of  these  fine  horsemen  and  not  one  of 
them  had  less  than  two  trophies  on  his  lance,  while 
I  saw  one  of  them  with  no  fewer  than  eight  skewered 
on,  and  he  was  smiling  all  over  his  dark  handsome 
face.  So  were  the  rest  of  them — they  were  all  de- 
lighted with  the  success  that  had  crowned  their  work, 
and  we  cheered  them  mightily  and  laughed  too,  for 
somehow  we  couldn't  help  doing  both. 

Meanwhile  we  were  being  shelled  from  a  spot  which 
we  could  not  locate  for  some  time,  then  we  learned 
that  the  firing  came  from  a  fort  on  the  left  of  the 
village  which  was  known  as  Port  Arthur.  We  were 
in  the  direct  line  of  fire  from  it,  and  our  position  be- 
came very  uncomfortable.  The  Germans  who  were 
in  Port  Arthur  were  a  plucky  and  stubborn  lot,  for 
they  refused  to  surrender  when  they  were  asked  to 
do  so,  and  declared  that  they  would  not  cave  in  either 
for  British  or  French  or  Russians.  That  showed  a 
fine  and  right  spirit,  but  at  last  these  chaps  had  to 
stop,  because  our  gunners  got  two  or  three  "  Little 
Harrys  "  into  Port  Arthur,  and  it  came  tumbling 
down  about  the  defenders'  ears. 

It  was  now  dark,  past  nine  o'clock,  and  it  seemed 
that  the  enemy  was  a  long  time  making  up  his  mind 
to  attack  us ;  but  at  about  twenty  minutes  past  the 
hour  they  began  firing  with  their  artillery.  The  very 
first  shell  they  sent  came  right  into  my  two  sections  of 
trenches,  and  killed  one  man  and  wounded  half-a-dozen 
of  us,  including  myself.  The  poor  fellow  who  was  killed 


VICTORY  AT  NEUVE  CHAPELLE      305 

had  his  head  completely  taken  off  his  shoulders.  I 
helped  to  bandage  the  other  five  before  I  troubled 
about  myself.  Then  I  looked  around  again  and 
found  that  the  Germans  were  well  into  the  night 
attack;  but  they  never  got  within  fifty  yards  of  our 
trenches. 

What  happened  after  that  I  am  not  able  to  tell 
you.  I  was  sent  to  the  field  ambulance  to  have  my 
wounds  dressed,  then  I  learned  that  I  had  got  two 
shrapnel  bullets  in  me,  one  in  the  left  thigh  and  one 
on  the  other  side,  to  keep  it  company. 

In  the  ambulance  train  I  went  to  Bethune,  then  on 
to  Boulogne,  then,  on  a  Sunday  afternoon — the  14th 
of  March — I  landed  at  an  English  Channel  port  and 
once  again  had  experience  of  the  care  and  kindness 
of  friends  and  nurses  in  the  hospitals  at  home. 

For  the  second  time  I  had  been  sent  home  wounded 
from  the  front.  I  was  proud  enough  when  I  felt  that 
I  had  tried  to  do  my  duty  in  the  glorious  rearguard 
fighting  after  Mons  and  in  the  battles  of  the  Marne 
and  Aisne ;  but  I  was  prouder  still  to  know  that  I  had 
shared  in  the  victory  of  Neuve  Chapelle,  in  which  we 
got  our  own  back,  with  a  lot  of  interest,  from  some  of 
the  finest  troops  of  Germany 


THE   END 


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